Seas in Incarnadine
by Laryna6
Summary: A series of oneshots about the adventures of the devil hunter and his allies. Will include characters from all forms of Devil May Cry.
1. Rebellion: Knight of Swords

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_Note: this contains novel elements. Yes, the novel was rendered AU of the games by DMC3. However, because I like the novel and like the fact we get to see Dante interacting with normal people besides Enzo, I'm using it in my fics. _

_So, in my ficverse, the novel happened in rough outline, but to keep it consistent with the games I'm changing a few details from the novel. In my version: the novel takes place when Dante is 16, the sword he has is Rebellion, not Force Edge, novel!Enzo is manga!Enzo's uncle, Vergil does not have Nelo Angelo's armor & I'm ignoring the epilogue. _

_In the actual novel, Force Edge was the sword that spoke to Dante, meaning that in the original DMCverse Sparda is indeed in Force Edge as Eva is in the amulet. I am only hoping the rest of the games do not ignore this previous canon (as well as Trish's resurrection in DMC1). _

_I'm sorry to anyone who was looking forward to this being Alastor's chapter. I did a draft, but it wasn't up to standards so I'm going to do the novel character chapters while my friend JaneGray and I look at/work on it. _

_I still need to write Eva's death in Rapture, don't I?_

_In any case, I'm trying to mesh Kamiya (novel and VJ) canon with manga canon here. Let me know if I didn't close all the resulting plotholes._

-

Rebellion had known something was wrong long before a trembling hand pulled him out from under the bed and he was clutched to his young master's chest like he had seen him, much younger, clutch a stuffed bear.

Hours ago there had been gunfire, even though it was long past morning practice. Then the house had shook as there was explosion after explosion in the yard outside. He'd heard thunderous hisses and cawings. Another demon attack.

He hadn't even had a sense of foreboding then. They had weathered demon attacks before. Unlike Yamato he had never seen Sparda's mate in combat, but he knew Sparda would never have taken a weakling as consort, even if she was a human.

There had been attacks before, houses had been wrecked before. He'd heard things falling off the shelves and the cracklings of small fires. He'd sensed the deaths of demons and been content that the young master was being protected, though he longed to be at his master's side. But no, the master was only a nestling and should be kept out of true combat. He was brave and impetuous and if he had Rebellion in his right hand he would try to aid his mother.

Then he'd sensed human death, a quick burst cut short.

He had never had the gift of foresight: Sparda's attack had taken him and his twin by surprise. He knew of gold orbs, surely she had several. One lucky shot was not the battle.

Even though there were so many of them.

Then she'd died again. And again.

He'd realized he didn't sense the young master. He'd always been better at cloaking his presence than his twin, but there had never been this total blackout. He realized he hadn't sensed him since soon after the battle started.

Sometimes there would be a spate of time in which there were no deaths, but always when he thought the battle almost over there came another. How many gold and yellow orbs did she have?

After a pause there was one more death and rebirth, though this one felt odd. It came too late, not the instantaneous resurrection of an orb.

Then the deaths stopped, and a while later he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

He could see out from under the bed. A demon.

Demons.

Searching the house.

That was when he had given up hope.

They destroyed the room, searching. One threw aside the bed and another took him, but he stabbed the demon, which died. When it did he spun away to under where the bed had fallen. After that they left him alone, laughing at the guardian's failure.

Then he sensed another death, a more distant one.

Soon after that the demons left. The only sounds were collapsing rubble and the cracklings of flames, now growing louder and louder.

An hour, another, he did not know. It was when the sky began to lighten outside that he felt it.

Pain.

His young master's pain.

The nestling Sparda had entrusted him with the task of guarding was hurt and alone, and here he lay, stuck in the form of a sword. Sparda had bound him, he could not take devil form and most of his powers were sealed. That had been so when the nestlings sparred they would not get seriously hurt.

He'd fought against the seal after Sparda had disappeared, but given up. Sparda was the master of seals.

Faintly, he thought he heard sobs, broken words, pleading.

Then, after a long time, steps again, coming towards him.

The young master had clutched him and rocked, eyes now spent of tears, while the flamed grew louder. Then he had swallowed, the sound audible even over the flames, and brushed the tears away. Then he had stood up. Carried Rebellion downstairs, peering carefully around corners.

So brave. So smart, to get a weapon. Rebellion knew he was going to be needed. Possibly very soon. Why had they left when Dante was still alive? They must think he was dead or fled.

Scales and feathers lay everywhere among the wreckage: the demons' hosts? Bullet holes marred the walls.

And a body lay on the ground.

The energies in the blue orbs would have kept her fighting until she died. There had been no time for torture. The demons that had survived had taken out their rage on the dead body.

Dante clutched the sword tight and didn't whimper. His eyes were red, but he looked almost numb now. He dragged Rebellion on the ground as he picked up a pair of guns: Rebellion recognized Luce and Ombra. Dante regarded them and Rebellion realized he was glaring at them.

They had failed his mother, after all.

The tattered remains of a shawl hung from the young master's shoulders. He made it into a sling and put the guns in it.

There was a track on the ground, and Rebellion realized that he had dragged his mother's body indoors, out of the falling snow.

Dante sat down on the ground next to his mother and hugged Rebellion tight. The sniffles came again, louder, and Dante's eyes closed and his face pressed against the hilt, nuzzling Rebellion's skull face like a demon nestling seeking reassurance from a parent.

Dante would never normally do something like that. Rebellion had heard him tell his mother not to kiss him in front of people. The young master wanted to be an adult, he hated 'mushy stuff.'

The Dante Rebellion knew, moreover, would never follow demon instincts.

With Sparda gone, Eva gone, Vergil gone, Rebellion was the only protector Dante had left.

Anguish radiated off him in waves. Rebellion tried to absorb it all, trying to use the strength to break the seal. Trying to let none of it escape. What if the demons had left a watcher? Dante's silence earlier must have been at least part because of the shawl. Now he had taken it off and was doing the equivalent of shrieking to the heavens! What was he thinking, did he want to die?

Possibly he did.

The crackling of the flames grew louder and Dante hiccupped, trying not to cry, trying to at least physically hold it in. "Mommy," he whimpered, face pressed against Rebellion, eyes closed so he didn't see the body on the ground. "Mommy," he whispered again, despair in his voice. He knew he wouldn't be answered.

He squeezed Rebellion so tight he cut his already shredded clothes. He didn't even stop when the blade started to cut into his skin, blood dripping down it. He just kept shaking.

At least his torrent of pain had stopped.

Not that that was a good sign.

Nestlings that were in pain cried out to their parents. Dante _had_ been trying to be heard when he screamed like that. But there was no one to hear him, and now he had given up even that hope.

Dante couldn't stay here. Eventually someone would come, if not demons then humans, to find out what had happened. They would find Dante, a lone nestling. Whatever sorcerer had opened up the portal to let these demons through would find out there had been a survivor.

Rebellion didn't have much grasp of where things were in the human world, but he knew the place where the half-breeds lived was a long way away. Dante would be killed before he could get there. Even if someone came to pick him up it wouldn't make any difference: he would either be killed before they got here or they would be killed as well.

Mundus' forces would be furious to find out they had been cheated. They must be celebrating, thinking they had finally destroyed all that remained of the accursed traitor Sparda.

But Dante just sat here, not noticing the blood oozing down onto the floor, curled up around Rebellion. At least he had Luce and Ombra next to him, he could fight if a demon came. At least he had that much of his mind left, to get weapons. But would he fight?

Dante was the more emotional of the two. If he fell into a berserker rage… or what if he just sat here, not caring anymore, as he was torn apart?

He had to get out of here!

"I did what you said, Mommy, I hid." Dante's eyes opened and he smiled. "I'm sorry I didn't have the things I was supposed to keep with me. I'm sorry." He sniffled again.

The fires were small, set by the explosives, Rebellion guessed. It would take them a while to spread her, especially since it was snowing. He cursed: the flames might convince Dante to get up.

Or would he want to be burnt up, in a funeral pyre? For a nestling to be all alone…

Rebellion was here, but there wasn't anything he could do.

"I've got them now, the orbs and my sword and guns. If…" he gulped. "If they come back I'll protect you." His hand gripped Rebellion's hilt, Dante shifting enough the blade quit cutting him shallowly.

Rebellion would have breathed a sigh of relief, if he could breathe.

But Dante intended to stay? No!

"I'm sorry, Mommy, I didn't protect you." Another gulp. "I'm just weak like Vergil says." Dante froze, and another burst of agony came.

Rebellion had no idea where Yamato was. Somewhere in the house? In Vergil's room? He hoped Dante would go up and find him… he hoped none of the demons had taken the blade. No, if he had managed to destroy them Yamato would be fine.

He wanted to urge Dante to go fetch him. Dante would be better off with two blades, too protectors.

Even if he was already doomed, and nothing would change that. A nestling, alone and almost untrained? No matter how good his weapons were. He didn't even know how to become a devil! Sparda's seal on the nestling's own powers still remained. It would take years to loosen.

There had to be something Rebellion could do!

"Vergil," Dante whimpered, and clutched Rebellion too tight again.

He wished he could take devil form and curl up around the nestling, protect him with his body and soothe him with his presence.

"I hate them. I hate them hate them hate them!" Dante cried, squeezing tighter. "I'm so sorry Mommy, if I hadn't been born you wouldn't be dead. No." He shook his head. "It's _his_ fault. He died and left us all alone. Mommy…" He hiccupped.

Silence then, for a time, as it started to get a little lighter. Or was that only the fire? Humans would be waking up soon. They would see the flames, even though this house was in the far edges of their city, with few close by.

"Mommy, you said not to hate him but it's all his fault!" Dante growled, the loudest sound he had yet made, then stopped himself. He shivered. "Sorry Mommy, you said not to growl… I'm sorry." He gulped. "But it's all because of Father. I hate him!"

Then he fell silent, kept rocking. His face was hidden against Rebellion's and his shoulders shook.

"Mommy's dead and Vergil's dead, I heard them say they had killed him," Dante told no one in particular. "I should be dead! No!" He whimpered. "I'm sorry Mommy, you wanted me to not die. But I'm all alone! I'm all alone and they're going to find me and…" He gulped and squeezed Rebellion tighter.

The scent of fresh blood… Dante's clothes were soaked by now. "I'll kill them, Mommy, I promise. I'll kill them all." He looked at her again, teeth bared in a show of ferocity that faded when he saw her body again. He flinched a little.

A fly buzzed, attracted by the smell of the corpse. Dante lunged and snatched it out of the air before it could land on her. Rage filled him now.

He looked at the smashed body of the fly between his fingers and heard more buzzing. Then he fell back down into his sitting position and whimpered. "Can't protect you."

He sat there again as the flies buzzed. The sun was now well up. He didn't even move when they landed on him.

All alone, the child's soul whispered, all alone. Fear ran through him, his young master who had always been so brave, exploring the world even though nestlings his age normally never left the nest. Trusting his mother to protect him.

Despair, he wanted to curl up and die.

And he would die, if he stayed here. But the despair sapped the very strength he could have used to fight it.

He wanted to stay by his mother, his once source of protection, the person who had always made everything right again. But she was gone.

He squeezed Rebellion to his chest hard enough suddenly, and the blade rang against the stone of the amulet. Too bright and beautiful a sound for this place.

The door had been burst through, and much of the wall with it. Anyone who walked up the front path could see Dante. Of course, Dante could see them… if a human tried to take Dante away from his mother's body, he might kill them.

He didn't really understand why, but killing humans was different from killing demons, according to Sparda and his family. So Dante would be even worse than he was now if he did.

Had to get him away from here. Soon. _Run!_ Rebellion almost screamed, though he knew the nestling was deaf and dumb to it, mostly by his own will. If they found out one of Sparda's sons was still alive they would hunt him down to the ends of the earth! There would be no safe place to rest without demons coming, there would be no chance to grow up and avenge, there would be no hope. Rebellion would fail in his duty and the nestling would die screaming. Again.

"I'm sorry, Mommy. They killed you and they're going to kill me. They hate me, everyone hates me, because of him." So he was sitting here to wait for death. "I'm not even gonna get to see you in heaven, because heaven doesn't exist, just the Underworld, and even if it did exist they wouldn't let you in, even though you're a really good person, because of _him._" He didn't seem to have the energy to growl anymore, head bowed. He hugged Rebellion again.

Flames were creeping up the walls but for now Dante was safe on the stone floor. Safe until the roof, which looked like wood, caught fire and caved in. Rebellion remembered burning human homes, remembered screams of children caught in the rubble. Not on his watch! But all he could do was watch, now.

"He named me Dante and I'm gonna go to hell like in the book." He sniffled. "Mommy…"

_Hide that name! Blind yourself to it and run away! _Rebellion put everything he had, all of Dante's pain, all of the death that still lingered here, behind that command. Even if Dante couldn't hear him, perhaps his unconscious would. Or would Sparda's wards see it as a spell and protect him against it?

Dante jerked suddenly and looked around, springing to his feet, Rebellion at the ready. Then he looked at the sword, eyes widening. Then hardening.

He picked up the makeshift bag.

Then he walked through the broken door.

The now nameless boy threaded his way through the pits on the ground, though a sharp scale cut through his shoe, the slight ouch the only side besides the occasional sniffle.

Yes! Rebellion wasn't going to question whatever miracle. He gave thanks to Sparda, that Sparda's seals knew intent and had not stopped him. He might not fail. Sparda's nestling might live.

No, it was too early for hope. Rebellion commanded himself to think, though Yamato had always been the strategist. That was why he was Sparda's favored blade. Or he had been.

They wouldn't have left unless they thought they had killed all of them. They must have mistaken one of Dante's deaths for a permanent death.

He was all alone. Father, now Mother and brother.

Rebellion strained fruitlessly against the seal as the boy started to run. If only he could take his true form! He could carry him away much faster! The boy had no proper training, he had never wielded Rebellion in battle, Rebellion could defend him much better than the young master could defend himself!

A part of him mourned for his twin, Yamato.

If Vergil hadn't found them he must be dead. Yamato had failed Sparda. Rebellion knew his own failure was inevitable.

The boy was running away from the city. He ran around the edges of the graveyard. Why, since it was the most direct route? The sniffles grew louder when he neared it. He must not want to think about death.

They ran along roads deep in the forest, with houses perhaps once in a mile. They had gone up here to spar… but Vergil was dead. There would be no more sparring. The next time the young master fought, Rebellion knew, it would be against someone trying to kill him.

Rebellion couldn't even help him become a devil.

He felt his charge close in on himself, first tightening down to focused purpose and then… nothing. Hiding himself and his soul. Though it wouldn't work at close range. Humans constantly exuded emotions, food. Dante was feeding on his, giving off nothing. If someone tried to feel him and felt nothing they would… well, some humans were like that. Humans that were called soulless. Killers.

The boy would do well to be like them. Humans would come after him now as well as demons, both those seeking Mundus' favor and those who killed demons themselves.

Though demon slayers had been dying for years now, most too busy fighting to train replacements. The world's jeopardy might be Dante's salvation. As long as he hid. As long as he gave no one any reason to look twice at him.

Rebellion almost wished the nestling had lingered for money and a change of clothes, though now he thought about it he doubted the demons had left anything intact. Humans who saw him would wonder. He was covered in blood not only where Rebellion had bit into his skin or were there was blood soaked into his hair and on the sides of his face. The center of his face was clean. As clean and unmarked as only new flesh could be, Rebellion saw now an absent arm wiped away the tear tracks. But the blood on his shirt front. He must have… he must have hugged his mother, Rebellion realized.

Though now he was into the woods.

Keep running, Rebellion urged him. Keep running. As far and as fast as you can.

He couldn't hide forever. Eventually Mundus' generals would manage to resurrect him (had it happened now? Had that been the power that had summoned so many demons?) and they would come to take this world.

The young master would fight them. It was in his blood and bone.

He needed to get stronger. He needed to fight and kill, feed. He couldn't hide in the woods forever.

Rebellion's power had been drained by that shout. He didn't think he could speak to him again. If the young master would hear now he was more deaf than ever.

The young master was intelligent. Hopefully he was thinking again now.

Hopefully he would live. There was no cowardice in running. Warriors stood and fought. Nestlings hid and waited for their parents to save them.

If Rebellion prayed he would have now.

Hopefully ambitious demon lords would oppose Mundus and make him take a long time to mount a full assault on the human world. If he thought Sparda's brood was dead, why, then he had no further need of vengeance, no urgent desire to attack the human world.

The nestling ran, and ran, faster than a human. Eventually there were roads again, and spread out houses. And cars on those roads.

He hid in the bushes instead of continuing to run. A predator's eyes watched a family leave their house, work and school, watching a long time before breaking in, stealing clothing, food and money. He wrapped Rebellion, Luce and Ombra up in the clothing and tied it with the clothesline he had chopped down.

Then he waited until all the cars were off the roads and ran again.

When he got further into the city he found a bus station and booked a bus for Los Angeles. The Angels? Angels fought demons in human superstitions, Rebellion had gathered, so that was a good place to go. If the place wasn't crawling with human demon hunters.

It was a long trip and he heard the other passengers coo over the child and let him stretch out on the whole row overnight. Dante seemed to perk up a little at that, though Rebellion doubted any smiles were true.

An old woman asked, "What's your name, Dear?"

A second's hesitation and he replied, "Tony Redgrave. I'm going to see my parents."

Rebellion hoped he wouldn't anytime soon.

Still, he was moving. And while there was life there was hope. Running bought time. Time for the nestling to grow up.

Time for Mundus to gather his strength to take this world, take the ultimate vengeance upon Sparda.

It was a race, wasn't it.

Who would win, the restored Dark Emperor or the young Dark Knight?


	2. Luce & Ombra: Dawn to Dusk

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry._

_Well, with Enzo I finished the novel characters, and now I'm going back and doing the ones I missed. Complete speculation here: we know nothing at this point about what happened between Eva's death and the novel/manga. I'll try to make it entertaining speculation. _

_I have a friend who can tell you horror stories about social services and foster homes. He had to sleep with a blunt instrument to be safe in the night, they put him on drugs he didn't need for their own benefit… the system desperately needs reform. I know there are good people out there, one of my other friends' mom is one, but nowhere near enough if someone could go through what he and the kids he knew did. _

_Reference to underage rape, language. Not an R rating worth, I don't think, but this justifies the PG-13, okay? You are warned. Most of this fic is pretty tame… I confess I did no research, but went for the 'feeling' and maximum darkness. I used to pack lunches like those for the poor on Skid Row in my church. _

_This has the least… interaction between Dante and the weapon(s) of any of them so far. This is because they aren't quite his: his Father's and then Trish's. He doesn't use them: E&I instead. I hesitated to do them at all for just that reason. _

_-_

They, and Rebellion, spent most of the time shoved under the mattresses that lay on the bare wooden floor of the abandoned building. At least it was a somewhat honorable post, guarding the money that lay there, a pile that decreased a little at a time until refreshed.

Those reaching after it would be cut by Rebellion. Once, Luce had 'accidentally gone off' when an adult tried to take the stash. The noise had attracted Dante (Tony, they had to remember that), who had kicked the robber, who was clutching his thigh and screaming, out the room and down the stairs, judging by the thumps.

Normally they only heard the voices of children in this house. Tony was the acknowledged leader (how could he not be, with his father's blood?) of this pack of feral human nestlings, who had found living at home to be more dangerous than the wild world. At least the human world at its worst was safer then the Underworld. It was unlikely that they would be eaten for the young and tender meat.

Tony's dominance was enforced by his fists, at times by the threat of their existence.

Another time, a pack of older human youths had burst in and attempted to claim this lair for their own. Tony had threatened them, then shot five, promising that if they ever came back he would shoot to kill.

They'd been taken out from under the mattresses a week later, and the day after that the house began to fill again, the children that had sought safer lairs in fear of the battle returning to Tony's proven protection.

They had been proud of him then. And glad: they rarely fed now.

How long had it been? They didn't count the days.

One day, the mattresses was lifted and they, but not Rebellion, were taken out. Tony wore their old holsters, and they slipped into them like they had never left.

He was wearing an odd costume, for this modern day. A long time ago, while they served Sparda, they had seen people dressed like this.

A black-haired boy, younger than Tony, was peeking in the door. "You're gonna use real guns for a cowboy costume? Cool?"

"Not like I have the money to waste on fake ones." Tony shrugged, checking them expertly before sticking them back.

"People aren't going to want to give you candy if they think they're real."

Tony laughed. "No one's going to know they're real. Do they look real?"

"No." The boy shook his head.

"Who are you going to be?"

"Do we haveta?"

"Yeah, we haveta have costumes. Some people might not give us candy otherwise and we need to get all we can."

"Oliver Twist." He held out a bowl. "Please sir, can I have some more?"

Tony laughed. "Good one." He took out Luce and held her up. "Wyatt Earp." He blew imaginary smoke off Luce, then holstered her in a swift, practiced move, as though it hadn't been years since he'd done it. "Come on, we'd better get to the soup kitchen for lunch before it's all gone."

"Yeah!" The boys thumped down the stairs, joined by others on the way.

The food wasn't soup, but bagged lunches with apples, sandwiches and chips. The place was decorated with cardboard cutouts of pumpkins, witches and other things. The people there knew Tony, complimented his costume and those of the other children, three of whom were wearing sheets over their heads and were supposed to be ghosts.

One of them gave the children candy, which they took gleefully and saved. The pack of them followed Tony out again after they had gotten their lunches.

"Okay, now we start!" Tony commanded. There were cheers.

They followed Tony through streets until things stopped being so decrepit and run-down. The shops began to be decorated, and there were banners across the street.

The children followed Dante up to a shop, knocked, and called "Trick or Treat!" The owner of the shop came out and gave them candy. This was repeated at other shops.

There were other children there, but they were accompanied by adults. One of the shopkeepers asked Tony where their parents were. "We don't got none," he said proudly.

They were given extra candy.

They went up and down the streets until Tony noticed it was five o'clock and they were going to stop giving out the candy. They trooped back to the abandoned house they nested in. There was a van waiting there.

"Tony!" The man leaning against it snuffed out his cigarette and waved. "I thought you said five-fifteen."

"Sorry, Rodriguez. The little kids held me up." Tony scowled at them and they squealed in mock-fright.

"Whatever. Get in the van, pretty soon my boss is going to wonder where the hell I am."

"All right guys, get in," Tony ordered.

The children stuffed themselves in, and the van started up, Tony getting in the front seat.

They were dropped off in a nice neighborhood as the sun was starting to set. "Here you are, Tony," Rodriguez said as he opened the van doors to let the children out. "Call my boss with the code message when you want me to pick you kids up, okay?"

"Right." Tony nodded. "Okay! Let's get going!"

The children cheered.

They went from house. "Trick or treat!" They were given more candy.

Tony led them double-time from house to house, telling the older kids to help by pulling the younger ones along so they didn't fall behind. The pillow cases, shopping bags and sacks began to get really heavy. Tony carried some of them for other kids on long stretches between houses, when they had to come back down streets that ended.

They kept going until lighted houses were few and far between, and when a light turned off as they approached Tony sighed. "Come on, let's go back." This was greeted with cries of dismay, and one of the children that was clearly older then Tony wanted to stay longer. "If you don't go back with the rest of us, you won't have a ride! It's miles!" Tony warned, and he followed them meekly.

Tony made the call from the payphone at a small market, "Mr. Rodriguez?"

Sound over the phone. "This is his son. Mother said to pick up milk on the way home, can you tell him that?"

More noise. "Thank you!" Tony chirped, sounding much younger than he was.

They waited, some of them wrestling in the grass. Tony gave them pointers.

Eventually Rodriguez got there, the children were loaded up, and they drove back to their lair.

Two older ones, hardly children at all, had been waiting there. Tony nodded at them, and they headed indoors, guards relieved at their station.

So Sparda's son was able to command men of fighting age as well as children. That was good. They wished they knew more. He had advised the fighters expertly, encouraged them in their practice. Was he at least keeping up his physical training if he wasn't practicing with weapons?

So much they didn't know, they didn't see. At least he defended his territory well from humans. And he was a well-liked leader.

Tony commanded them to take anything that would go stale out of their bags. There was a chorus of groans. "Do we have to?"

"Have to do what?" A younger child asked, confused.

"He makes us give up most of our candy every year."

"What?"

"Candy takes a long time to go stale," Tony reminded them. "It's our emergency reserve. So come on."

Tony poured the very few bags into an open garbage can (a clean one) in a back room, leaving every kid two handfuls of candy, or so, in the bag. Then he locked down the lid.

Everyone went for their rooms. "Jorge? Vince!" Tony called. Two other older boys, about sixteen, the guns guessed, answered him.

"Yeah."

"Keep an eye out, okay?" Tony headed for the door.

"Right."

"Sí." They leaned against the wall outside the door as Tony headed out into the night.

He ran, once climbing over a wall, heading across a roof, and climbing down. He came to a large store, a supermarket, and stopped in the shadows a ways away. He scooped up rocks, aimed one carefully.

He hit whatever he was aiming at, threw another, then three more. There was a sound like a window breaking, and Tony ran forward, leaping through the window. He tore open one cash register, dumped it into his trick-or-treating bag, then two more. Then he nodded, head cocked and listening, and ran back out through the window.

Sirens in the distance as he retraced his route back to the lair, faster this time, racing the wind.

He slowed when he came in view of the lair. "I'm back guys, go to bed."

"Got to be up early for the construction site tomorrow." Jorge yawned, waved as he headed up the stairs.

"What'd you get?" Vince asked, grinning?

Tony blinked innocently. "What're you talking about?"

Vince laughed. "Sure."

"You'd better go to your sleeping bag. If you burst out laughing when the cops come again there'll be trouble," Tony warned him.

"They can't ever pin it on you," Vince replied, shrugging.

Tony slid the leather gloves he wore off his hands, sticking them in the bag. "Nope. There's nothing to pin."

He went up to his room and lifted up the mattresses. There were weights stuffed in above the springs, they saw, so humans would have a hard time lifting it. Was Tony even thinking in those terms? He tossed the bag of money down with his other hand, then blinked. "Forgot I had these on." He undid the holster belt, muttering, "Good thing I noticed you two, or the cops might have seen you were real." He tossed them under as well, no more respect than that shown a sack of flour, and the mattresses fell down.

They heard him move around, sitting at the windowsill. A car drove up, and he laughed quietly. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Yeah?" Tony said.

"It's the cops," one of the older boys said, sticking his head through the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Tony headed downstairs.

They heard him thump, sounding annoyed, down the stairs. They'd heard this before. Of course, now they knew the full story. So the Son of Sparda was a thief?

Nothing wrong with it. The strong took from the weak. Though his father would hardly have approved.

"Hello, officers," he said grumpily.

"Hello, Tony. There was a robbery five miles from here. Do you know anything about it?"

"No, I was here the whole time."

"And I bet the whole building will collaborate that story." The other cop sighed. "Gabe, you're beating a dead horse. The security cameras saw nothing, they were shot and destroyed again, like the other times. How would a sixteen-year-old…"

"Fourteen," Dante corrected him.

"You're fourteen?"

"Yeah. I'm big for my age."

"Fourteen-year-old get to be so good a shot? We've searched this place before and there aren't any guns here. Sure, he keeps knives under his bed…"

"We could drag him downtown for just that."

"We didn't have a warrant when we did the search. He _let_ us do it so you would stop harassing him. Just because there was a kid you _think_ was him seen _very blurrily_ by one of the cameras in the third robbery…"

"White hair, wears red. You think there's anyone that would copy his trademark? And we don't need a warrant, we could get permission from the company that owns this place. They'll probably be glad we got these kids out of here."

"That was right after he came to town. About five years ago. It wasn't a trademark then. If any of the gangs would care. Anyway, it's only been twenty or so minutes since the robbery. How do you think he managed to get here so fast?"

"He could have gotten someone to drive him."

"Gabe, you checked last time. You could ask again, and I bet people will tell you no car drove by at the right time." The other cop sighed.

So Sparda's son was crafty, and swift. If only they knew he was strong. Rebellion had reason to do what he did, but what if it hindered him in learning his powers? Eventually, Mundus would come, and Tony would join the fight. He could die without Mundus even realizing he faced a son of Sparda unless he harnessed his heritage, and soon.

They didn't want their charge to be scythed down by lesser demons.

"The kid belongs in a home before he ends up in a jail cell! All these kids do!"

"Right. You know a lot of them _ran_ from foster homes. You know what the system is like! They breed criminals there! Put them on drugs to get more money… you've seen just as many people the system wrecked as I have! We take them in, they'll just run away again. At least they're safe here."

"Safe for how long? And we're _cops, _Frank. We have to do what the law says, and the law says…"

"The older kids are getting jobs. If illegals can get jobs without papers, we can," Tony chimed in belligerently.

"You already got in trouble with a gang once. They're going to come after you guys again."

"I can handle them."

"Right. What if they bring in guns? You want a pitched battle with all these kids here? You think you're their daddy, huh kid?"

"I'm better than their real dads. I'm not dead or a bastard." They could hear the glare.

_The humans are fools to challenge him, sister, _Luce laughed.

_He regards these as his servants, and a good knight cares for their servants, liegemen, _Ombra agreed. _He was not taught the way, but see how he knows it in his heart. A born leader of armies. _

_He gathers an army here, but they are not strong. They would not be able to protect him against even the weakest soldier demon. They are a liability. _Luce sighed without a sound.

_Still, they are practice. And he cares for humans: his father would approve, _Ombra responded.

"Don't sass me, kid." There was a sound of metal jingling.

Tony said nothing, hostility coming off him in waves.

"Gabe, let it go. We, or at least I, joined the force to help people, not to shove the book down their throats. We don't have any proof he's breaking laws. We have a lot of proof he's _not._"

"Look at him. You've seen those eyes before. They're the eyes of a killer." Contempt. "The kind of guy who guns down a whole family in a hit to leave no witnesses."

"He's not a psycho, he's looking after all these kids. Psychos only look after themselves."

"One of these days, Tony, you're going to do something dirty I can pin on you. And you're not taking these kids down with you."

"I won't let anything happen to them," Tony said through gritted teeth.

"Right. Keep telling yourself that. If you're smart, you don't believe it."

"Gabe, come on." And the cops left.

"Tony?" A little girl's voice came.

"Yeah?" Tony said, trying to stop being angry so he wouldn't scare her.

"Christie isn't back yet."

"_Damn_ it." There was a moment of silence. "Wake up a couple of the big boys, okay? I'm going to find her."

"Yes, Tony."

Tony thundered up the stairs, reached under the bed, grabbed them and Rebellion, and jumped out the window, landing already running.

Through allies, across streets with traffic running, over roofs, to end up in front of another abandoned building, in much worse shape and crawling with graffiti. The lair of another group.

Tony cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled. "Matt! Get your ass out here!" The boys hanging out in the front of the building, guards, started to converge on him.

"Well, if it isn't little Tony."

"Out of your territory, aren't you kid? And none of your guys here with you. What are ya, stupid or crazy?" One of them laughed, puffing on something that wasn't tobacco.

"Crazy," Tony answered, keeping an eye on all of them. "Mad. Get Matt out here, I want to have a word with him."

"About what?" The leader of the group sauntered out of the building, much older than the rest of them.

"One of mine is missing. Christie."

"Yeah. So?"

"So you'd better let her go."

Matt laughed. "You can have her. She didn't have what I want. Someone took it before I got to her." The gang laughed.

"Bastard! She's only thirteen!" Tony glared, reaching for them. "She didn't need that shit again, I told you to stay the hell away from her!"

_A nestling? _Humans… Sparda claimed they were different, but they acted like the worst of devils sometimes.

They had fed on those who offered themselves to them. After a little persuasion, the humans had begged. They were kind to their prey. Was that so wrong? And yet Sparda had defeated them, and reforged their devil arms into these guns, weakening them almost to death. They admired him for this strength, they didn't understand his reasoning.

"So? This isn't Disneyland, kid. This is the streets. She's going to end up a whore anyway, I just reminded her."

Tony's eyes narrowed and in under a second Ombra was in his hand, firing.

Matt dropped to the ground.

"Bastard!" The thugs went for guns and knives and, moving as though he'd trained every day, never stopping, he shot them out of their hands with Luce.

"The boss'll get you for this!" One of them growled.

Tony didn't answer, heading inside the building with Ombra pointed back over his shoulder. He fired her once.

_Impressive. _They wouldn't speak, they knew better than to distract him. _Fighting for a human. His father would be proud. _

"Christie!" He yelled. There wasn't a response, so he kicked down door after door until he found her in a closet, marked with blood and tears, worn dress torn.

He used Rebellion to cut the duct tape. "This is gonna sting," he said before he ripped it off. "You okay?"

"Get me out of here," she said quietly, gulping.

"Follow me," Tony said. "I'll get you out of here."

And he did. One tough blocked the door, but Tony stared at him down the barrel of Luce and he moved away.

He got to a payphone and dialed 911. He stayed until the cops came, then took off before they could catch him.

He headed back to the lair, jumped in through the window, and started to pull his few possessions into a bag. He didn't take the money.

"Tony?" Jorge looked in through the door. "What went down?"

"Matt. He went after Christie."

"Damnit! Did he?"

"Yeah. I've got to split."

"Why? Is she okay? She isn't…"

"She's okay. I left her with the cops. They sent an ambulance too."

"You brought the cops into this!"

"Only thing I could do. I shot Matt. Dead."

"…Hell."

"Yeah. His gang's got to come after me now. I've got to split, otherwise they'll be going after you guys too. They'll come and ask questions, probably rough you up a bit. If you take it, they shouldn't kill anyone. They'll come after me, and I'll be easy to find."

"Where are you going? Are you coming back?" Another boy, with a commanding air, had poked his head through the door as well.

"No, Terr. That gang's national, the only way I'll stop being a target is to be too bad to take down. The only way _you guys'_ll stop being a target is if I don't care about you. And the best way to prove that…" there was a pause, Tony swallowed and continued, "is to leave you guys in the lurch. Act real pissed off at me."

"But, without you here… they won't let an organized group be on their turf, Tony!"

"Christie'll talk in court, that'll hurt them a lot. Accessories and everything. The other gangs'll move in on them. We're right on the edge, they only care about us since they started expanding and I didn't let them move in. With the other gangs after them they won't have time for a battle with you guys. You know where the weapons are buried, dig them out after the cops stop coming." Tony had finished packing.

"You're really leaving?" He looked lost.

"Yeah. I've got to," Tony nodded, swallowed. "I can't look after you guys forever, you know that. Eventually we've all got to grow up, get jobs and everything."

"It's just… I can't imagine this place without you. You made it all work. Where am I going to get money, everything?"

"There's enough for six months under my bed, if you pinch like I did. The older kids'll contribute, the reserve's full… this might get on the news, see if you can use the younger kids to pay for pity donations. Try to find places for people."

"If we get on the news _they'll _try to break us up. "

Tony sighed. "Just… do your best, okay? Maybe some of the younger kids might get adopted. Everyone… knows how to take care of themselves, I made sure of that. They can handle homes."

"It's all going to fall apart without you, Tony."

"I know. But it's better than another fight. I don't want anyone to get killed. Dead is dead. My…" Tony broke off. "My mom got killed because my dad had enemies. They got him, then they tracked her down years later."

"Tough." Terr nodded in sympathy. His own story wasn't that much different. They had heard him tell it to Tony when Tony interviewed him. No one tough enough to be a thread to the little kids got in here without Tony's approval.

Sirens were blaring outside.

"I've got to go. Tell them the truth."

"They'll come after you."

"Not very hard. I'll keep my head down. Don't worry about me, worry about them."

"Yeah. What do I owe you, you bastard, you're abandoning us."

"That's the spirit." Tony grinned.

"You're sure you're not sixty? You old, man." Terr shook his head. "Move."

Tony hesitated, "Bye. Good luck." Then he jumped up onto the roof and started running.

He went through that gang's territory. Ended up in an alley with some of them, who tried to kill him.

Luce and Ombra were pretty sure that was what he wanted to happen, from the way he smiled. "I'm damn good at this… and it's one way to get a rep," he muttered.

The sky was lit with false dawn.


	3. Nell Goldstein: Relics

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. _

_Nell Goldstein is a character in the novel. The novel was rendered AU of the game series by DMC3 (although DMC3 contradicts DMC1 on one thing, too), but I like it so I'm incorporating an AU version of the AU novel into my ficverse. Novel takes place when Dante is 16, I outlined the rest of it in Rebellion's chapter._

_I love Nell. She rocks so hard. Dante sees her as kinda a surrogate mother. She's old and takes nothing from no one, and she cares a lot about Dante. She's the one who made Ebony and Ivory. While she was bleeding to death and there was a fire… but I'll get to their chapter when I do. And at one point she puts on a monocle to help her see to work on a gun, which just made me squee when I noticed it. _

_In any case, I'm having to work Luce & Ombra's existence in Dante's possession to give to Trish into the novelverse too… Seeing how many of Capcom's plotholes I can close. _

_-_

The first time she saw him she had to blink for a second, because aside from the white hair he looked just like her son.

She'd looked up from the bench where she was working on a Beretta, extending the range, prepared to snap at whoever had the bad timing to interrupt her when she was on a roll. It wasn't some idiot mercenary (or so she'd thought at the time) or wealthy collector but a kid, just Rock's age when he'd died, and moon-pale.

She'd dropped the gun.

It took her a second to realize he wasn't a ghost (the nose was different, the eyes were different), and then she felt even more irritated because she'd reacted like that. He was blinking at her, puzzled, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that told her he'd mock her, mock anyone, given the chance.

Her eyes darted to Rock's photograph and then back to the boy. He was about fourteen, but that was just a boy to her. "Why didn't you knock?"

He just shrugged. "This is a business, right? And I brought business. I hear you're the best in town, old lady, and I want you to make me some guns."

"I don't make guns anymore. I only repair and rebuild." Hadn't he seen the sign?

He was walking around her office like he owned the place. He stopped in front of her sign. ".45 Calibur Art _Warks_? Hey old lady, your sign's misspelled."

"I know that." Rock had carved it when he was just learning how. "I don't have any patience with people who just stand around and look. Go home, boy."

He ignored her, taking two guns out of a bag and wagging them in her face. "I want guns like these, old lady. Do you think you can do it?"

"I already told you I don't make guns anymore, boy." But her eyes were drawn to them, and the boy grinned and put them down on her workbench.

She'd never seen guns quite like these before. They were large and heavy, obviously expertly made .45s. But they had an air of antiquity about them, and why on earth would anyone set jewelry into guns that were obviously not just for show? These had seen use, she knew, as her hand felt the wear in the grip. "Luce and Ombra," she read, fascinated despite herself. "For Tony Redgrave." Where had she heard that name before?

"They were my father's, and then he gave them to my mother. I want guns that can do what they do." He took other guns out of the bag. "I don't want to use these two but when I use other guns they fire too slow and break. I heard you're the best, old lady. I can pay." He took a roll of money out of the bag next.

"I set my own prices, and there's not enough money in the world to pay me to make new guns again." She looked at the new guns, picking one up. "The way this has been mistreated, no wonder it broke." Her eyes drifted to the first two again. Those were museum pieces. Her fingers itched to take them apart. Wait a minute. There was something familiar about that name. She heard so much gossip in this business: hitmen were worse than old women like her. "I'm not going to put work into a gun just so it can be mistreated by an amateur, boy." She pushed the guns back at him.

He didn't pick them up, looking offended. "I'm not an amateur! I can shoot just fine! It's not my fault I can't find good guns!"

Ah, that was where the name was from. "Your father should teach you how to take care of your weapons. You can't be a mercenary if you don't take care of what earns you your dinner. Go hungry growing up, boy?" A new mercenary, silver hair, Tony Redgrave. Must be this boy's father.

"My father never taught me anything!" He glared at her.

Like a little kid's glare was going to have any effect on her. "I bet you stole these guns from him. When he finds out he'll tan your hide, boy. If I were you I'd run on home damn quick." She laughed.

"I didn't steal these guns! Well, I took those ones from people, but I'd kicked their asses so that's fair!" He pointed to the other guns.

"You?" Those guns had also seen a lot of use over time. He'd beaten hitmen? Ha. "Stop wasting my time, I've got guns to work on." She turned away from him. "Go on home and give your father back his guns."

"My father's been dead for years. These are _my _guns."

"Oh? Then how come I've heard of a Tony Redgrave? Tosh. If he can take out six men at once he can haul a punk like you home and put you over his knee." She snorted in contempt.

"_I'm_ Tony Redgrave. I beat those guys. That's how I got all these guns." He pulled more out of the bag.

"You expect me to believe that? I'm old, I'm not senile. I think I'd have heard about it if the new man in town was a _kid._" A kid in his dad's clothes. A red leather trenchcoat? That was new. The silver amulets she shrugged off, everyone in this business was a little superstitious. It had obviously rubbed off on her. Seeing ghosts, ha. Rock would have laughed just like this boy would laugh if he knew what had startled her.

She heard someone coming up the steps and there was a knock at the door. "Come in!" she called. "Now go home, boy, I've got a customer."

A customer who froze, eyes widening when he saw the kid glaring at him. "She's busy with me now. Come back later."

"Sure, sure Tony." The man went away.

She looked at the boy, who was smiling, vindicated.

Good job, Nell, now you do look like an old fool. This boy was a mercenary? Everyone was just getting younger and younger, it seemed like.

"Well, old lady? Will you build me my guns now?"

"What's the problem with these ones?" She gestured at those spread out on her workbench. "I don't want to put my heart and soul into a piece of _art_ if you're just going to bust it like you have all of these poor things."

"I didn't break Luce and Ombra. I want you to build me guns that are like them and won't break," he explained as though to a senile old lady.

"How do you keep breaking them?" She asked, examining one. Breaking so many guns, when he'd just won them off hitmen? They kept their weapons in good condition.

"They keep jamming when I shoot them," he explained, lounging against a wall.

"Do you know why?" She took one apart. There was an odd sort of wear… "Come on then." She stood up. Why was she doing this? Was it just that he'd caught her being a fool and she didn't want to lose any more face? She should be telling him to get lost, like she would anyone who tried to get her to build a new weapon. Those days were over.

"Where are we going?"

"Put those back in your bag and follow me." There was a vacant lot nearby. She grabbed some cans. "I'm going to have to watch you shoot."

The neighbors wouldn't be alarmed: they were used to hearing her try out the guns she was working on. Though if the shots came from any other direction they would head for cover. This wasn't exactly a good neighborhood.

She'd been held up exactly once. Guns were valuable, after all. She'd shot both of them in the head. She'd had to go up before a court for that, but it was ruled self-defense. Damn waste of time. After that they stayed away.

She positioned the cans and stepped back behind Dante. "Okay, shoot like you normally do."

A hail of bullets disintegrated the cans, guns out of the bag and back in with almost a seamless movement.

She undropped her jaw before he turned around. "You're pulling the triggers too fast. Guns aren't built for that." That was much, much faster than she built her guns for, and she had years of experience. She'd never heard of anyone being able to shoot that fast. Pieces would grind together, explaining the odd wear. "You don't need me, you need to slow down."

"Luce and Ombra can take it." He showed them to her. "I need other guns that will."

"Why don't you just use those two?" They were masterpieces.

"I don't want to." He shrugged. "So, can you build me ones that'll work or are you overrated, old lady?"

She shook her head, short silvery blonde hair swaying. She'd considered dying it, but she was an old lady now. No point in being vain. Though it was nice to see someone with whiter hair than hers. It made the boy look a little older, if you didn't look at his face.

Looking at his eyes made him look even older. A trickster, no doubt about it. Not like Rock. He'd been such a good, serious boy, wanting to follow in his parents' footsteps.

"Are you deaf? I already said I won't build new guns." But she waved for him to follow her as she headed back to her office.

"You're the one who's deaf, old lady."

She snorted. "You know, I'm not sure I want your money enough to take your mouth."

"I've got a job tonight. I can just use my sword, but I need guns. If you won't do it I'll have to find somebody else."

"No one in town's good enough to lick my boots." Wait a minute. "Sword?" She turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." He blinked at her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She'd heard of people using swords, but none of them had ever come to her gun shop. She didn't see the point of them, herself. Swords couldn't deflect bullets, so a sword was useless in a real fight. Just big knives you couldn't conceal. "Hhmph."

"I'm good with it," he objected. "Want to see?"

"If it doesn't throw bullets I don't give a damn about it, young man."

"Okay, old lady." She smiled a little at that, getting down a paper bag.

"Let's see the color of your money first."

"I've got enough." He took out the bill roll and handed it to her. She unrolled it. Sometimes people would stuff these with ones but it looked like hundreds all the way through.

"So you want me to rebuild these so you can use them like loose cannons." She took out the ham sandwich and chomped on it. His eyes followed the sandwich instead of replying. She swallowed."You hungry?"

"I just got paid, and my last money all went to finding a place." He shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Here." She tossed him a sandwich. He snatched it out of the air.

"Thanks." It was gone in two bites.

"Oh, you'll pay for it."

"So you'll take the job?" He brightened almost visibly, smiling, eyes shining.

"Some of these you won't be able to use even with my tinkering. And if you don't slow down your firing they'll break eventually no matter what I do. You'd need a weapon designed from the ground up to fire like that. And no, I'm not going to build you new ones."

"It's a racket. You're just going to make me keep coming in to get them fixed."

"Not if you treat them right. Think if the money I'll take out of your hide as an incentive to learn how to shoot right." She took another bite.

"I know how to shoot right! You saw."

She'd seen, all right. He hadn't been in a firing stance or anything, he'd just taken out those cans. This boy was good, he'd fired those shots like lightening and he'd actually aimed them.

It wasn't just a matter of how fast someone could pull the trigger. It was a matter of how fast someone could fix in a new target. There hadn't even been an instant's pause in the firing when he'd switched to the next can after shooting the hell out of the previous one. This boy was good, and she'd seen some real sharpshooters in her day.

"I saw you have no respect for precision instruments, that's what I saw. Want another sandwich?" She wasn't that hungry.

"Thanks." This one was gone in two bites as well.

"Show me what guns you've got."

He took them all out of the bag except for the two she wanted to see. "I said all of them."

"Pushy old lady…" he muttered, talking out Luce and Ombra.

She looked at them and handed him back three. "These're no good for you. I'll take them, though." She could strip them for spares.

"What do you want Luce and Ombra for? I'm not going to use them." Though he'd used them on the cans to demonstrate his shooting. They were obviously the best guns for him. Why didn't he use them?

"Because they're the only pair of guns I've seen like them. I'll take a little off your bill if you let me take a look at them and give them the tune-up they deserve." She brushed a bit of dust out of the corner of one of them. They'd lain unused for a while. "You don't have any trouble firing like you do with these?"

"No." He shook his head. "But I don't want to use them." He looked around her shop, eyes lighting on the massive shotgun with appreciation. He obviously liked guns, even though he didn't treat them right. No, that wasn't fair.

"These were custom made." She started disassembling them. Redgrave, Redgrave, the name was dimly ringing bells. Or was it just déjà vu? "If I study them maybe I can figure out how to fix others so you can shoot the hell out of them." Huh? It was ready to fire but otherwise unloaded.

How many shots had he fired at the cans? She hadn't seen him reload.

Six cans, and he'd fired… he should have needed to reload. "How old are these?" She'd heard stories, but they were just myths, right? Guns made with black magic that never needed to be reloaded.

She briefly considered the idea that she'd miscounted. No, she wasn't senile. She'd take them to the firing range later.

These weren't ordinary guns. They had been taken care of very badly for the past few years but... and they had names, and jewelry, cameos with pictures of young women set into them.

She knew guns, she knew when something wasn't right.

"I don't know." He shrugged.

"And I bet you don't know who made them," she grumbled. "Beauties like these… you should be put up against the wall for treating them like this. I've half a mind to…"

"They were made by..." he paused, looking like he was trying to remember something. Then he shook his head. "Sorry, old lady."

"If I fix these up I'm going to put my mark on them," she warned him. "I always do."

He shrugged. "I'm not going to use them, so I don't care. You can have them if you want them."

She stared at him. "You're crazy."

"Yeah!" He grinned, and she stared.

Not like Rock. For a moment there he looked like the kid he was. Yet, somehow, he still reminded her of Rock, how he would grin when he shot a buck or finished a piece… she realized that was why she hadn't kicked this kid out on his ass, well, besides the gorgeous guns. He reminded her of her son.

She was even feeding the kid! She, the crotchety old bitch. He just made her melt. Well, as melty as she got.

"These are heirlooms, right? Probably belonged to your grandfather." Amazingly well preserved, except for recent damage. What had he done, let them lying on the ground outside? "You should take better care of them."

He clammed up. What was it about these guns? Why did he hate the little darlings so? These were queens of guns, with the pictures of the ladies on them. Normally she hated useless ornamentation, anything that distracted from the fact that this was a gun, a deadly weapon, not a toy, but these two beauties just seemed _right_ somehow.

"Hey, old lady!" A hand waved in front of her face.

"My name's Nell. Nell Goldstein."

"When can you have the guns ready?"

"I can have a pair of them done by tomorrow evening." She had other clients. Screw them. Couldn't have a kid going out with only a _sword_. "You use guns with both hands, right?"

He nodded.

She finished off her sandwich, which had lain almost forgotten while she examined the twin guns. She wished she'd built them. But those days were gone, dead with Rock. She'd never build guns again.

She handed him two of them. "Show me how you fight."

"In here?"

"Don't actually shoot, you idiot." She froze. "These are unloaded, right?"

"Some of them are. Why?"

"You were carrying loaded guns around in a bag in public?" She hit herself on the forehead. Then she thought better of it and hit him.

"Ow! What was that for!"

"You don't show guns the proper respect! You could have killed somebody, you jackass!" All jumbled up like that? It was a miracle. "I oughta turn you in!" she said, shaking her fist at him.

"You wouldn't do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"I'm too cute to rot in jail?"

God, he was just a kid. This was the newest mercenary who had come out of nowhere everyone was talking about? He was going to get himself killed. The thought made her blood run cold and she inwardly made a quick prayer.

The boy was a killer, but she didn't want him to die. This was the first time in years she'd cared about someone. This was the first time in years she'd cared about anything. How could she create when her greatest creation was dead?

How could one of the scum she'd fallen to providing with weapons to kill be sent as some sort of redemption? She felt like this was some second chance.

She shouldn't let him get to her. He was young, but already hard. He'd just use her. Sure, he seemed to have a core of goodness, but probably seeming innocent was part of his stock in trade. She tried to harden her heart. "You're not treating any guns you get from me like _clubs_!"

"Sure, sure!" He backed away, hands up and eyes laughing.

There was another knock on the door. "Scram! I'm busy!" She yelled. Whoever it was had the sense to bug off. "If I ever hear of you accidentally shooting anyone I'll tear you a new one, you hear me?"

He laughed, though there was some respect there. Good. He'd better listen to _this_ elder. "Yes, Mother."

Mother. "Don't you call me Mother! I'm sure the one who spawned you has already suffered enough because of you without you ignoring her! I'd like to meet this woman, anyone who could handle a brat like you has my respect."

Another of those grins. Why? "She would have liked to meet you too."

He could talk about his dead mother and grin like that? Was it something she said? "Little hellion."

He laughed again. "You act all tough but you're not, old lady."

"I'll show you tough." She tore off some of the roll of bills and tossed it at him. "Get yourself something to eat." She could tell he was still hungry from the way he'd looked at her sandwich. How long had it been since he'd eaten?

She wasn't his mother. It wasn't any of her concern. He was just a customer.

He shouldn't even be a customer. "Now shoo, I have work to do."

"Okay, okay."

She closed the creaky door behind him and went back to her workbench, already planning how to convert the simplest two of the weapons he'd given her into something worthy of her workmanship.

He pushed open the creaky door behind her. "Thanks, old lady."

She snorted. "Like you can talk about people's ages, whippersnapper."

"Whippersnapper?" He laughed.

"Shut your piehole and get going, or you can wait a week for them."

"A week?" He pouted like the kid he was.

"Be a good boy and they'll be ready tomorrow evening, like I said."

"Okay! See ya, old lady." He shut the door and bounded down the stairs.

"And quit calling me old lady!" She yelled after him.

She thought she'd have some peace to get work done then but it turned out the client who had gone away before had just been waiting. No rest for the wicked.

As she worked into the night (she barely needed any food or sleep, which was good because she didn't enjoy either) she kept thinking of young Tony, and the memories of Rock he raised in her mind.

As the .45 Calibur Artist, all she cared about was guns, not those who used them or the uses they were put to. She especially didn't care about criminals and their infighting, except that it put tasteless food on the table.

But she went to bed relatively early, waiting for the next evening.


	4. Grue: Figures

_Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry._

_-_

He checked the Python at his side as he went into Bobby's Cellar. Someone had been shot just last week, and he wasn't taking any chances. He headed for the bar. Some beer would be nice right about now. It would have to be the cheap stuff, though. He had to watch how much he spent. It tasted awful, but he'd get used to it.

He downed some of the glass Bobby had poured him. Eventually.

Experienced eyes cased the joint. The usual suspects, but none of the usual troublemakers. That was good. He lit up a cigarette. Cheap.

He'd stopped wondering how a guy who'd kept his nose clean in Vietnam had ended up here. His wife had died, and then Jessica got sick, and there just wasn't any money. The offer to bodyguard had seemed like a godsend.

And now he was an accessory to lord only knew how many crimes.

"Hey, that's bad for you, you know."

He turned and, one hand on his gun, gave the busybody a shut-the-fuck-up look.

The guy in the red trenchcoat with the broadsword at his back was unfazed. "It'll give you cancer."

Grue listened to the voice and mentally lowered his age estimate by a lot. It was the white hair, it threw you off. "You shouldn't even be drinking, kid. Worry about your own liver." Sheesh, he was Jessica's age. Maybe a little older.

Jessica's age and armed. "You that Tony Redgrave guy?"

"You see any other teenagers in here clinking from the good luck charms?" He grinned.

A lot of mercenaries were superstitious, no atheists in foxholes, but damn the kid was loaded down. "It's the ice cream sundae." He coughed, voice long roughened by smoking. "Makes me want to send you home to your parents. If my dad caught me in a bar like this at your age he would have tanned my hide. Who the hell eats sundaes in a place like this?" Gerald Sr., WWII veteran, wouldn't be happy _his_ boy was here either.

His daughters would never end up in a place like this.

"Hey." Tony waved his spoon at him. "I paid for it, I'm eating it." He took another bite. "It's good."

"You already look like a kid. If you eat like one too no one's going to take you seriously," Grue warned him.

"Hey, you knew my name, right? What's the matter, jealous I just came to town and I have more of a rep than whoever you are?"

"The name's Grue."

Tony thought. "No, not ringing any bells." He took another bite of the sundae.

Grue nodded. "Didn't expect you to know about me." He worked freelance\ and never took assassination jobs. Not exactly the best way to make a living. If he'd signed on with one of the families… but there were limits to how far he'd sink. He took another swig of the beer, holding his cigarette in his right hand, the one nearest Tony, who drew back, wrinkling his nose.

"How can anybody stand how those things smell?"

"You get used to it." Grue took a puff.

Tony shrugged. "Whatever." He started digging into the strawberry sundae again.

Someone came in. Grue looked over and was disappointed that it wasn't Enzo. The informer sometimes knew about people who needed extra muscle for some job and would tell Grue about it. But it was just some guy Grue hadn't seen before. He turned back to his beer and found himself watching Tony, who noticed the next time he took his eyes off that sundae.

"What?" Tony asked.

"What's a kid like you doing in a place like this?" He was a killer, but he was still a cocky young kid. Grue wouldn't have dared ask something like that of most of the people here, but there was something about Tony.

"Waiting for someone to offer me a job."

"No, I mean why are you a hitman?"

"Mercenary. Mer-cen-ar-y." Tony waved his spoon at him in emphasis. "I don't take murder jobs."

"Why not? Killing people's part of the job description." Another freelancer?

"Sure, I'll kill people if they get in my way. Like the guys in here. They're fighters. Live by the sword and all that. But killing people who can't fight back?" Tony shrugged. "Stupid waste. But don't think I'm soft." A slight glare, and he looked like the killer he was. Then it vanished and he was the cocky, somehow innocent kid again.

"You're a weird one."

Tony laughed. "And you're just now figuring that out?" He slurped down the last of the ice cream. "Hey Bobby! I want another one!"

"Coming up."

"I knew it before. The ice cream was the first clue." That and the fact he was so damn young.

"Hey, I can eat whatever I want, I earned it."

Someone came over to the bar. "Hey, are you that Tony Redgrave punk?" he asked belligerently.

"Yeah. What's it to you?" Tony asked, clearly not impressed.

Bobby slid the strawberry sundae to Tony and the man dashed it aside. "Didn't you get the word? That was our bounty you fucked up taking that bodyguard job! Now three of our guys are in the hospital and Velasquez's escaped! You're going to pay for that, punk!"

Tony wasn't looking at him, but at the sundae, contents now strewn across the floor. "You're the one who's going to pay! I was gonna eat that!" He drew his sword and stood as the man's (Grue could place him now, called himself Wolf: more like Weasel) buddies got up and stalked over.

One of them drew a knife and licked it. "How about we give the pretty boy a few scars?"

Tony reached out his arm and motioned for them to come forward as the first man backed up to join his friends. "Come on already."

"A sword? Ha ha. Wonder how much we can get for it?"

"Oh hell no." Tony's eyes… a trick of the light.

Grue felt bad for the kid, but he didn't dare jump in. Guys like these held grudges, and he had his daughters to think about. Especially Jessica, now she was a teenager.

Bobby had gotten down behind the bar. There wasn't any chance he could convince these guys to take it outside.

Wolf drew a gun. "Why don't you make it easier on yourself and just hand over everything you got?"

"Sure, I'll give it to you." A lunge, and the gun was swatted out of Wolf's hands, leaving him nursing a stinging wrist. The knife went the same way. Another slash, and they all lay on the ground.

Wolf tried to get up but Tony stomped on him. "How about you give me what you got? You owe me for that sundae."

"Why you little…" He gulped as the blade pressed against his throat.

Tony leaned down, grinning menacingly as he kicked someone else who tried to get up in the groin. "Hey, it was just business, right? Nothing personal. Unless you want to make it personal."

Everyone in the bar was watching. This was quality entertainment. Especially since Tony had only been in town a few months. A lot of people didn't quite believe the rumors, but they paid attention to the money. Tony had no trouble getting jobs.

A drop of blood trailed down Wolf's neck. Just one drop, and Tony smiled as Wolf shivered and reached for his wallet. "There we go." He took it and let Wolf up. "Now scram." He hit them towards the door with the flat of his sword. Hard swats but nothing got broken as they scrambled away.

The thing looked damn heavy. Grue didn't know the first thing about swords, but Tony had to be stronger than he looked. And have a lot of control, to put exactly enough force behind a swing that would have that much momentum. The damn thing was about as tall as he was! Might even be taller.

"Hey! Another sundae."

"Where'd you learn to use a sword like that?" Grue asked as Tony sat down and the bar's background noise resumed. Show's over.

Tony shrugged. "It's not that hard." He reached over and chugged Grue's beer, than made a face. "How can you drink that stuff?"

"You'd better buy me another one. Don't you have any manners?"

"Hey, I was thirsty and Bobby's busy with my sundae. I'll buy you a better one."

"No, this stuff's fine." Grue shook his head. He was just going to have to get used to it.

"You crazy?"

Grue smiled ruefully. "I'm getting senile." He was in his late thirties. That was old. Look at Tony, they were getting younger. That and his morals were why he had trouble finding jobs.

"Nah, you're not." Tony waved him off. "You drink that stuff and you make fun of me eating something… edible?"

He shrugged. He wasn't going to tell this kid he was hard up, he had some pride. "No accounting for tastes."

"De gustibus non disputandum est."

"Yeah. That."

"Here you go." Bobby handed Tony his strawberry sundae.

"Finally." Tony dug in.

"Wolf's nothing, but he's got friends," Grue felt he had to warn him.

Tony shrugged. "And when I kick their asses I'll get even more of a rep. Which means more jobs and more cash. I'll be laughing at them all the way to the old lady's."

"You should have beat them up a little more. You acted like you didn't take them seriously."

"I don't."

Man, had he ever been that arrogant? Teenagers. "I don't care how good you are, if enough people go after you someone's going to get lucky. It only takes one bullet in the right place."

"It'll take more than losers like that to take me down," Tony assured him. "What's it to you?"

Grue shrugged. Why had he been giving Tony advice? He was a competitor, after all. One of these days he might end up at the pointy end of that sword of his. Tony was dangerous. Even if he was a kid. "You're right, it's none of my business."

"Right." Tony dug into his ice cream again.

The door opened. Finally, it was Enzo. He headed right for Grue, who was relieved. Was there finally a job? He would have to pay the informant, but… "Tony!" Enzo greeted the boy enthusiastically. "Have I got a job for you!"

"Have you?" Tony asked, bored.

"You bet I have." Enzo took a seat at the bar next to Tony, still ignoring Grue. "Some people are moving a shipment and they need additional guards. They asked for you and at least two other people."

"Two other people?" Tony stared. "They'll have me! Who else do they need, the Marines? What is this shipment, anyway?"

"Secret. Part of the pay is not asking questions," Enzo informed him.

"How much?"

"Five thousand for you, four thousand for the other two."

"Only five thousand?"

"Well, I have a little bargaining range…"

"Ten, and eight for whoever's coming with me."

"Why would you care what the other guys get? It's no skin off your nose."

"This guy needs to stop drinking that swill." Tony pointed at Grue.

"Huh?" Grue asked.

"You're in here looking for a job, right?" Tony asked him. "So how about it?"

Grue looked at Enzo, who nodded. "I was going to ask you after I talked to Tony here."

"Perfect." Tony smiled. "So you've got the two people you need."

"I was supposed to get three."

"You don't need three. You're giving us that person's share. We'll get the job done, right Grue?"

Why was the kid acting like they were buddies all of a sudden? Grue had just met him. Yet there was something infectious about his cheerful grin, about that air of invincibility. Charisma, that was the word. No wonder so many people were trying to recruit him.

"I don't know. If they're willing to pay for three they're expecting at least five to attack. That's not good odds." Not to mention they were going for the best.

Gunmen were in it for the money: no one held escaping when faced with impossible odds against one. But he didn't want to get a rep as someone who ran. He had enough trouble getting jobs as it was. Not to mention what would happen if he didn't manage to run.

"Hey, I could fight a whole army!"

Grue snorted. "Sure, kid."

"I really should get a third man," Enzo chimed in.

"If you hire someone else I'm not coming." Tony folded his arms obstinately.

Enzo hesitated. "Okay, okay, it's your funeral. Grue?"

He looked at Tony. He'd handled Wolf and his thugs like it was nothing. It was harder to subdue without seriously injuring than it was to kill, really. And Tony wasn't short on guts. He could probably occupy their opponents. They would go after Tony first, too. That should give Grue time. He didn't want to abandon a kid, but this wasn't his kid. "Sure, I'll come." He stabbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, noticing Tony seemed relieved by this, and finished off his beer.

"When and where?" Tony asked, glancing at his sundae.

"Right now. I'll lead you there."

"Give me five seconds." And that was how long it took him to scarf down the rest of the sundae. "Okay, I'm ready." He put a twenty on the bar for Bobby, who wasn't crazy enough to let any of his customers run up a tab. You never knew when someone would bite the big one, or just skip town.

They followed Enzo out of the bar, Tony staying right behind him, irritated by the slow pace, "Come on! The sooner we get there the sooner they start, right?" and Grue following a few feet behind.

Only a few blocks away Enzo told them to stay outside while he went into a garage. Two men came out with him after a short conversation and handed them stamps while another started up a car.

Stamps were far more compact than thousands of dollars of real money. Grue and Tony put them away and climbed into the back of the truck, sitting on top of boxes covered by a black tarp. "Where are we going?" Tony asked.

"Down to the harbor."

Which meant through the territory of rival gangs. Hopefully they had already negotiated passage. Or, given that they had sent Enzo out to find Tony tonight instead of booking in advance, maybe they were hoping to go through before anyone could notice them and get together a big enough force to beat the (theoretically three) of them.

The truck drove through dilapidated streets. The mayor kept saying he would do something about the slums, but it never happened. At least the rent was cheap. A lot of people just found someplace to squat. What a place to raise his daughters.

Mind on the job. He scanned the night.

"So, old man…"

"I'm only in my thirties."

"You look a lot older."

"It's the job." Grue kept watching the storefronts and roofs.

"Hey, it's rude to not look at someone when you're talking to them."

"I'm amazed you've survived so long, son, if you don't know to keep an eye out."

"I'm listening."

"Right. While you're talking?" Distant sirens, stray animals, screams, the night was full of suspicious sounds.

"Right." Tony looked around, bored.

Then he pushed Grue down just as a gunshot rang out. Grue dived off the side of the truck to use it for cover, but Tony stayed where he was, standing up. "Come and get me!" he invited, beckoning with his sword as men poured out of doorways and the driver got out of the car and ran for it, only to be shot down.

As they stalked forward Grue rolled under the truck and started picking them off with his Python. If he could get rid of all the ones coming from behind the truck he might have a chance to go that way.

The truck shook as Tony jumped off it. Was he trying to run? He wouldn't get far.

Gunshots, the sound of bodies falling and then it was all over but the groaning. A booted tread approached and the car was kicked. "Hey, ostrich. Get your head out of there."

"Tony?" Grue rolled out and looked around.

Sixteen of them lying on the ground. His were dead, but the rest of them… shoulder and was that blood from him touching a wound or had Tony actually shot his hand?

Tony nonchalantly walked over and kicked the body of one of them. "Hey. Do you know where this stuff was supposed to be going?"

"If you kill me the Martino family will…"

"Just answer the question."

Grue noticed the driver and headed over, intending to check for a pulse. Dante stopped him. "He's dead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm asking this guy where we were headed. So I can drive this stuff the rest of the way."

"I don't know exactly where it was going. We were just told they would be sending a shipment tonight," the fallen gunman said, groaning.

Grue looked at Tony. "So what do we do…" He froze as Tony almost blurred, just as he heard a gunshot. Grue turned and shot the man who had managed to scrabble over to his gun. But just as he fired there was a clang as Tony's sword lightly hit his gun. The bullet hit the man in the hand instead of in the sniper's triangle.

He'd dodged a bullet and… no one was that good. He had to have been trying to just make Grue miss. Giving the guy time for another shot, risking his life to spare the life of someone trying to kill him. "What the heck? Why did you stop me?"

"Hey, can't blame him for trying." Tony shrugged.

"He tried to shoot you in the back." Once you lost, that was it. That was the rule. Otherwise no one would be able to surrender.

"Hey, no harm no foul. He didn't even get my coat. Why kill when you don't have to?"

"They're going to look down on you if you don't kill. You're acting like an idealistic kid. This is the underworld, not the boy scouts. If you're soft they're going to take advantage of you."

"If they try, then I'll kill them. It's too easy to kill, anyway. And if I beat them, they have to live knowing I can kick their asses. Dead men don't tell people how great I am." He seemed a little self-conscious there. Making excuses. As much as he acted like he didn't give a damn…

"Free advertising? But you can't count on them sending the right message. You're good. Damn good. But if enough people decide you're a threat and get together you're dead."

Tony laughed.

"What?" Grue asked.

"You're the one telling me not to be soft?"

Grue pointed at the bodies. "I took them out."

"And you're acting like you're my big brother or something. Telling me I should be careful and all of that." Tony shrugged dismissively. "I can take care of myself. I'd been living on the streets for years before I got big enough to take these kind of jobs. I know my way around."

"You're still what, only fourteen? Age and guile beat youth and skill."

"Not yet they haven't."

"Yet."

"Sure." Tony headed over to the leader of the gang again. "So you sure you don't know where this was headed?"

"No."

"Okay then." Tony headed for the car. "Come on, let's go back to Bobby's. We can tell Enzo about the truck and he can take care of it." He got in the driver's seat."

"There's no way you have a license."

"Who cares?"

"I'm driving."

"Sure, sure."

They drove off, Tony grinning as he got in the front seat. Grue was reminded about how his daughters would fight to see who got to sit there.

God, he was such a kid. He was going to get himself killed. They should just dump the cargo here, it wasn't their responsibility. The people who hired them should consider themselves lucky to even get the truck back.

Well, it beat walking. Now where the hell were they? Luckily scanning the streets had allowed Grue to remember a few landmarks. Tony reached over, turned on the radio and fooled around until he found a song he liked. Rock music. Kid had the look and the ego.

When they got back to Bobby's the first thing Tony did was barge over to the bar and order another sundae.

Grue smiled. He couldn't help but like the kid. Especially since he'd gotten more money thanks to him. This would pay for groceries, Jessica's medications, and ammunition for a while, provided nothing happened. Tony wore enough good luck charms for both of them.

Grue sat down next to Tony and ordered another cheap beer. Were these sundaes his dinner? He needed to eat some real food. He told him so, and Tony cheerfully sassed him back. Damn, but he liked the kid.

Careful, careful, this wouldn't be the first smiling face to hide a real bastard. But not killing that guy said a lot. He was a killer, but not just a killer.

"Hey, Grue, what are you doing? Hitching a ride on Tony's coattails?" someone taunted him.

Tony defended him and the guy ran off. Partners? Sure, whatever. He'd see how long it lasted. The kid needed someone to look after him, that was for sure.


	5. Jessica: Dated

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_One of the points where this is AU of the novel is Tony's age. I've decided for fic purposes he is 16. But besides the AUness, this is sort of a missing scene. _

_Jessica's… just a really good kid. I wanted to write her some happiness. _

_In the novel, Jessica isn't in the hospital: she's in a sanatorium for seeing demons. Her mother's death is not explained. Sick!Jessica evolved out of three things: wondering how her mother died, wondering why Grue is so poor despite the fact he's working with Tony and raking it in (Tony's poor because he's constantly buying new guns), and wondering why she ended up in the sanatorium when Grue has seen demons, at least zombies, himself._

_If Jessica, his mature, rational daughter, told Grue she was seeing demons out of the blue he'd call Tony. If she told hospital staff and a psychiatrist assured Grue that of course demons don't exist, we could end up with the novel. _

_-_

Jessica looked at her face in the bathroom mirror. Brown curly hair, plain round face… in dim light she looked okay, but she'd never be beautiful. Not like Tony. White hair and the face of an angel. When Sylvie had come over and got a look at him she'd stared and giggled. Jessica had blushed and hurried her out of the room.

Her father didn't like to talk about his work, but things had gotten better since he and Tony had started working together. She still had to watch the household expenses, but she didn't have to squeeze every penny.

Except after another hospital visit.

She hated being the drain on the family. It wasn't fair. She worked so hard… Mother had worked so hard, but then she'd died of this too.

But she wasn't going to think about that today.

Tony had asked her out!

She was pretty sure her dad had asked him to, which was really embarrassing. When he'd asked her she'd blushed like crazy, but she wasn't crazy so she said yes.

Tony never stayed with anyone long, according to her father, but now he liked someone named Claire. She had to be crazy, because who could turn Tony down? Even if he was young, only a year or so older than her.

He'd diffidently offered to take her to a movie.

She'd picked up her sisters from their school and brought them home. Sylvie had agreed to babysit for free in exchange for being told all about it. Dad was going to be out tonight.

She had to be home by ten, but…

She straightened her best dress. It was a little worn, even though she'd sewn up the tear along the shoulder seam in a way that didn't show, but…

Just as long as she didn't get sick tonight, that was all she wanted. She was a good girl, didn't she deserve this one thing? Even if he had pretty girls throwing themselves at him and would never love someone like her, at least she would have this. And he worked with her dad, she'd still get to see him a lot. He liked her cooking, too. Dad had teased her about it.

Everyone loved Tony.

She'd considered buying makeup, but when would she ever use it again? She didn't have time for a boyfriend, really. There wasn't anyone else she was interested in, anyways. There was this one boy who had walked her home but dad had scared him off. He didn't like anyone messing with his little girls, even though she wasn't little anymore.

She'd messed with her hair until she remembered one of the ways her mother had shown her how to style it. It was very out of fashion and probably would look ridiculous to anyone else from her school, but she thought it looked nice and she didn't know anything about fashion. She doubted Tony did either, so that was okay.

She turned around and practiced smiling in a mature way. She wasn't going to blush!

Oh, she was so excited. Her first real date!

Someone banged on the bathroom door. "Jessica, Tony's here!" She heard Tiki (her real name was Theresa, but everyone called her Tiki), yell.

"One second!" She checked herself over again and took a deep breath. Mature. She was going to be mature.

"Hurry up, I hafta go to the bathroom!"

"All right Tiki." Sometimes she hated having little sisters. She opened the door and Tiki pushed past her.

She walked out to the kitchen. "Hello Tony." She smiled at him.

"Hi Jessica." He waved, Nesty on his lap.

Jessica was surprised, for once he wasn't wearing a leather coat. Instead, he wore a red work shirt and black slacks. Only one of his good luck charms hung around his neck, a huge clear red stone that had to be glass.

He'd dressed up (for Tony, anyway) for her? "What do you want for dinner?"

He pointed to a bag on the table. "Steaks! I just got paid, so I brought them. Can you cook them?"

"I can cook anything," she assured him. She opened the bag. Could even Tony eat this much steak? He always wolfed down her cooking. It was very flattering. Dad said he was always eating something, he was a growing boy.

The receipt was in the bag. "Tony! These weren't on sale!" In fact, they were more expensive than they usually were, and he'd got the best kind.

"Hey, it's a special occasion." He grinned at her, and she smiled back, even though she really shouldn't smile at him. He was broke almost as often as dad. He didn't have a family to support (and medical bills, her mind whispered), but he always had to buy new guns, and even though dad said Ms. Goldstein charged him less than anyone else it was still a lot of money. And he'd had to replace his coat recently.

He looked so handsome in that coat, like a hero.

"I'll get started," she told him, opening a pack and then putting the rest in the fridge. She had to go grocery shopping again, this was her day to do it, but she had a date today.

"Thanks!" He bounced a giggling Nesty on his knee as Tiki raced back in the room and demanded to be picked up as well.

"You really shouldn't have brought them, though," she said, taking down a frying pan.

"It's not my money. Have you heard about the new guy, Gilver? I just did a mission with him and he gave me his share of the money when I said he could use it. He's nuts, he doesn't need the money and just buys rounds for everyone with it or something."

"Is Gilver a friend of yours?" She asked, turning on the stove.

Tony shrugged. "He can't hold his drinks, but he's decent. He uses a sword, like me."

"I'd like to meet him." If Tony liked him, and judging from his voice he seemed to, then he was a friend of hers. Even though she didn't like that he was doing jobs with this guy instead of Dad. Maybe they would all team up.

"He could probably use one of your meals, Jessica, he's real thin."

"What does he look like?" She looked in the spice cabinet. Tony wouldn't want to wait for her to marinate them or anything, but maybe she could…

"Nobody knows. He wears these bandages wrapped around his head."

'Is it some kind of disease?"

"I have no idea." Tony shrugged.

She didn't want Tony to find out how sick she was. "Oh," she said, watching the steaks to see if she needed to adjust the temperature.

She heard giggling. She turned around to see Tiki and Nesty making funny faces. "Hey! Quit bothering Tony!"

"Nah, it's okay." Tony started making faces back. The girls squealed with delight.

She smiled at them. She liked that they were all having fun, even though it wasn't because of her. She had work to do.

"Tony, what movie are we seeing?" she asked when the first batch was almost done.

'I have no idea. I thought you were picking it."

"Oh. There's a new horror movie." Maybe he'd put his arm over her shoulder? Horror movies always frightened her horribly, she had nightmares, but she doubted he'd like a romantic comedy, even though Sylvie said there was a good one out.

"What's it about?"

"Zombies, I think." She flipped them again.

"Nah. Any action movies?"

"I think so." There usually were, though she didn't go to movies often: her friends talked about them.

"Action sound good to you?"

"Sure, Tony." She'd get to sit next to him. As long as he liked it. "Tony, how done do you like yours?"

"Medium rare."

"Okay." She got down plates and set them on the counter, putting cutlery and full water glasses on the table.

"They're almost done?"

"Well, the first batch is. I can only cook a few at a time." They only had one frying pan. "I'll get started on the second batch right away."

"Thanks, Jessica."

"I'm sorry, we're out of tomato juice." He'd drunk the last bottles when he came over and she'd cooked them doria.

"That's okay." He shrugged.

She should have gone to the grocery store yesterday. There hadn't been time, but she should have _made_ time. "Okay, they're done." She brought out Tony's plate with the biggest steak, and then plates for Tiki and Nesty.

"Wow, Jessica, this looks great!"

Was she blushing? She blushed. "Thank you, Tony."

He ate really fast. She flew back to the kitchen. She wasn't that hungry (butterflies in her stomach), so she'd be fine eating one from the last batch. She should have made Tiki and Nesty wait too.

She heard Tony urge on her sisters in an eating contest after cutting Nesty's steak up into small pieces for her. Jessica smiled, listening. Everything had been better after Tony came along.

She knew he'd killed people, but so had her father. She knew they both didn't kill unless they had to. They were good people. Her father was so nice, never blaming her even though… Not tonight. She wasn't going to think about stuff like that tonight.

Time flew by and she brought out the second batch. "These are really good, Jessica!" Tony told her with his mouth full.

"How many more do you think you'll want, Tony?"

"Most of them! But keep at least two packs for your dad, okay?"

"Sure, Tony."

"Jessica's _blushing! _Jessica's got a crush! Jessica and Tony, sittin' in a…" Tony clapped his hand over Tiki's mouth.

"Hey, you leave your sister alone. She made you such a nice meal, show a little respect," Tony chided her gently.

That was the first time he'd done something like that. "I'll hurry up with the third batch." She retreated to the kitchen.

In revenge, she cooked some broccoli for Tiki and Nesty.

"But we want more steaks!"

"You have to eat healthy." Jessica had eaten some herself in the kitchen.

"I have to agree with Tiki there, Jessica. Broccoli is cruel and unusual punishment." Tony shuddered. "I never eat broccoli, and I'm plenty healthy!"

"Yeah!"

"Abba goo!"

"See? You're outnumbered," Tony informed her.

"We can't waste food, but I'll put it away for tomorrow." She did so, and brought out the third batch of steaks.

"Thanks, Jessica." Tony smiled at her again. She wished there was a hidden camera.

What was she going all crazy about, this was just like every time he came over. He brought a ton of food and expected her to cook it for him. Her little sisters played with him and she was stuck in the kitchen.

But he liked her food. He did like her, even if it wasn't liking her-liking her. Maybe that would change? It was okay to dream some dreams. Even if her heart would just get broken the next time he went on a date. With someone else. Kerry, who lived a few streets over, was after him real bad. She'd cornered Jessica to ask about him a while ago.

Finally Tony slowed down and Jessica grabbed one of the steaks for herself and sat down at the table. Just then, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she said, and did so. It was Sylvie, here to watch Tiki and Nesty, who had run off to play after they were too stuffed to eat anymore even with Tony there.

'How's it going?" Sylvie whispered.

"Okay. I cooked."

"Just that? You should have gone out to an expensive restaurant!"

"Shhh! We don't have the money."

"He should have paid for it."

"I can't ask him to do that."

"Why not? He asked you out."

Jessica shrugged.

"I'll go find the terrible two. At least make him pay for the movie and popcorn!"

Jessica went back to the table. "That's that friend of yours?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Her name's Sylvie. She's going to be looking after Tiki and Nesty while we're at the movie."

"I guess I am being kind of a heel, making you cook."

"You heard that!" She was mortified!

"Yeah. I've got really good hearing."

"I'm sorry. And I don't think that you're being unfair. It's just nice of you to ask me out, so I want to cook for you." She looked down at her hands.

"I'll pay for the ticket and everything at the theater."

"You don't have to."

"I'm loaded right now. It won't last, but you shouldn't spend your allowance when I've got cash. It's not right, like she said."

"If you want to."

"I do."

She blushed, he laughed. "So how about you finish eating and we can get going."

She nodded and ate as fast as she could. He laughed again. "Now that's more like it."

He was a real pig, but it was her cooking, and she'd done a pretty good job. "Let me check the paper, it should have theater showing times." Perfect! "If we hurry, we won't miss anything but the previews."

"What's it called?"

"Sharpshooter."

"Sounds cool." He stood up and offered her his arm. She threaded hers through it, just like in old movies. Why did Tony know to do something like that? She didn't ask, he might think it was sissy and stop leading her like this. It was perfect.

This was a very bad neighborhood, but she was safe with Tony. He probably wasn't armed, not in a movie theater, but no one would mess with him, he was the best. He even used a sword, which was really cool.

They went by Bobby's Cellar. She wasn't allowed in there, but she watched it go by, curious. She'd heard so many stories, it was notorious. Some of the senior boys used fake IDs there, it earned you bragging rights. Her father spent a lot of time there… "I'll take you in sometime," Tony told her, noticing her gaze.

"My dad would kill you."

"I'm not afraid of him. I'll get you an ice cream sundae."

Tony was so brave. "You'd better not."

"Why not?"

"I don't really want to go there, anyway." She didn't want to cause a fight between her dad and Tony. Her family needed the money, working with Tony earned a lot for her dad, when otherwise he might not have gotten jobs on his own.

And then Dad might forbid Tony to visit.

"Tony, is that you?" Someone stopped them on the street. A mercenary, it was easy to tell from his look. "Who's this?"

"None of your business."

"You're finally going after someone your own age? Wait until everybody hears about this!"

"Bite me."

"See ya!" The man went off to Bobby's Cellar.

'I'm sorry if they tease you because of me."

"It's okay." He shrugged.

"I know I'm… not the kind of person you usually date."

"Don't worry about it. I'm having a good time so far, and I want you to too."

"Thank you." They walked the rest of the way to the theater in silence.

Tony paid for their tickets, sodas, and a huge thing of popcorn over her objections. "Theater food is so overpriced! Didn't you eat enough steak?"

"Come on, Jessica, you've got to have popcorn with a movie."

"I could have popped some and smuggled it in."

He laughed and tugged her into the darkened theater. The previews were still playing and Tony found good seats. It had been a while since the movie had opened so the place wasn't very crowded.

The preview playing right then was for "Hearts on Fire," a romantic comedy. The perfect date movie. She glanced at Tony, who looked bored just from the preview. No, he'd never watch anything like that with her. He wasn't the sort. Or… maybe he would have been nice enough to, but he would have hated it and she wanted him to have a good time with her, at least.

His hair almost seemed to glow in the dim light, eyes a deep blue. "What?" he asked when he noticed her looking at him. "Do I have something on my face?"

She'd thought he was safely hypnotized by the flickering lights on the movie screen. "No, nothing."

"Okay." He shrugged it off, clearly thinking, "Girls."

The movie started. It was about a hitman, a sniper whose family was killed and he went rogue. Tony occasionally commented, things like, "I did that once," or, "Oh hell no, not even _I_ could make that shot."

Her father would be ticked if he heard Tony had used language like that around her.

"I'm going to get a motorcycle like that," he told her, "only red."

"Keep it down!" somebody hissed.

"You like everything red. Clothes, steak, tomato juice, strawberries…" she whispered.

"Yeah. Red's my favorite color." He nodded. "What's yours?"

"White. Or maybe blue." Man, did that sound stupid, but it was the truth at the moment.

"You're cute when you blush."

"I'm red when I blush."

"Yeah, that's what I said." He laughed.

"I said keep it down!"

Tony looked over the back of his chair and glared at them. They didn't have any more trouble from that person. Her hero.

Should she? Her hand crept over and took his. He didn't pull away.

She really shouldn't be in love him. She should marry someone stable, someone who would get a good steady job and support her, she should have a normal life. She wasn't pretty, or rich, but there had to be someone out there.

She didn't think she would fall in love with them, though.

Her dad must be laughing, about how this was a crush and it was probably a good idea to give her a chance to get over it. Tony wasn't going to sweep her off her feet like the guy in the film. She knew the realities of the mercenary's life, there was nothing glamorous about it.

He was just a kid too.

She didn't feel like a kid. She'd been the adult of the family for years. But around him she felt like a kid, a normal teenager with a crush and a long lifetime ahead of her.

It was probably a good thing Tony didn't really care about her. She didn't want people to be sad.

She didn't want to die soon, though. For one thing the funeral would cost money.

Man, her sense of humor was as bad as Tony's sometimes! There was more to life than money.

The movie was over much sooner than she wanted it to be. Tony's face looked like a little boy's as the car blew up. He liked explosions. He was in a good line of work. He was the best guy in town, Dad said. No one could take him.

She hadn't eaten any of the popcorn, but it was gone by the time they left the theater.

"So did you like the movie?"

"It was okay." She shrugged.

"I bet Grue tells better stories."

"He doesn't talk about jobs much."

"Too bad. He's good."

"I know." Otherwise he'd be dead. "He says you're the best."

"Damn right I am." He puffed up a little. She had to restrain a giggle. "Do you want to do anything else?"

"It's getting late." She'd like to dance, but… enough was enough.

'Come on, I'll walk you home." They went back the same way in a companionable silence.

When they arrived at her home, standing on the outside steps she asked him, "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah." Though it seemed there was more to it than that, some hesitation.

"I bet you wish you were the one doing all the things in the movie." No one had technically said it was a date. He'd just asked her to go see a movie. Silvie had assumed it was a date and Jessica hadn't bothered to correct her.

If this was a date, she would get a good night kiss.

He laughed and agreed with her. "I hate sitting still while other people have all the fun."

"I bet you do. Well, if you ever want to go see a movie again, I could keep an eye out for good ones?" She was a little surprised at her daring.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I did have a good time. And you're a good cook."

"Thanks, Tony."

"You're welcome, Jessica." They stood there under the streetlights smiling at each other.

"Well," she said finally, "I'd better go in and let Silvie know I'm back so she can call her Dad for a ride home." She pulled away reluctantly.

"Hold on a second." He stepped up, tugged at her hair, and kissed her on the cheek. "See you."

"See you. Come over any time! As long as you bring the food." She waved as he walked away, and then started unlocking the door.

She thanked Silvie and promised her a report in the morning. Then she started to cook some of the steaks for Dad when he got home before she went to bed.

Suddenly she started feeling something sorrowfully familiar by now. She had enough practice by then to turn off the stove and get down on the floor. Her last thought was that at least this hadn't happened during the date.

That was where her father found her, unconscious, at four in the morning when he made it home from the job.


	6. Vergil: In Crime

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_Please, I'm begging you, I really want feedback on this. I'm trying to mesh novel/manga/game Vergil (a younger Vergil here than in the manga or game, show how he could mature into game canon Vergil from the novel) and I really want to know how I did. It's a real challenge._

_I'm sorry this is almost a week late and there won't be another update this week. I have clinical depression and am taking a rather grueling summer course load that is fortunately over bar the final exams, and my medication just wasn't adequate for the stress level. I'm going to be working on the medication, so hopefully this won't happen again next time things get big._

_Ebony and Ivory are already written and coming up next, they should have been this week's update, in fact. I'm planning a few more Sins before I have to stop due to running out of characters. _

_-_

The Invisible Man.

It was ironic that the mercenaries called him that when he was becoming the most famous and sought after of them, eclipsing 'Tony.'

Dante was the one he seemed invisible to.

He wielded Yamato! His name was a ridiculously obvious pseudonym, Gil-Ver instead of Ver-Gil, green instead of blue. His scent alone… The bandages had been meant to fool the humans, if they saw his face they would instantly have known he and 'Tony' were related

Even after they fought, no hint of recognition.

None even though they'd been fighting together for weeks now.

The demons Vergil had allied with in his quest for power had fought Dante, and he used none of his abilities. He had greater strength and speed, but he hadn't taken devil form or used orbs. Most of the talismans he wore had no power at all! And the demonic aura had sickened him instead of giving him strength!

This was his twin? This was the other heir to Sparda's power?

He'd known his brother must have survived. He'd waited until he was strong enough (and Dante should have been strong enough!) to try to track him down. Defeating the leader of this nest of demons and making them serve him was easier than he had dared hope. With his twin at his side they could gain Father's power, vengeance would be theirs.

But had Dante had a _lobotomy!_ Had some human put a spell on him so he wouldn't be a threat? Wasting his life as no more than an above-average hireling of criminal scum! Their father's proud legacy come to this!

Vergil had become a bounty hunter, hoping to hear rumors. Surely as strong a warrior as his twin would be talked about. And of course he wouldn't enlist in any human armies.

He'd heard of others with white hair, and sent the demons to attack them, test them, calling Dante's name. He'd come when the first had survived, even though he had not claimed the name.

He fought well. If their first battle had gone on longer… Dante was still strong. Although if Dante had gone for a gun and Vergil called on his swords it would have been over. Father had used guns, but only to fool humans. Vergil had no desire to go to so much effort to be mistaken for a human. The fools refused to see what was right in front of their eyes already, no need for him to go to any effort.

Dante had inherited half of their Father's power, and he ignored it? If he even knew of it!

At first he had thought it was a façade. Dante had always been the better of them at trickery, and it was hard to imagine Tony as a son of Sparda.

What had happened to his brother!

His face was unreadable behind the bandages, Dante couldn't see him snarl. Couldn't even taste his rage.

All that power and he wasted it!

Demons without bodies were effective spies, and Dante couldn't even feel them. What they had told Vergil made him even angrier.

A human, worthy to be Dante's partner? A fake father. And this Nell, that human? When he'd gone in to take the gun he'd recognized her. She looked amazingly familiar. What Mother might have looked like in thirty years if she had lived that long.

This Grue was a father himself. He had a daughter that 'Tony' had taken on a date. Spent the money Vergil had given him to treat. He hadn't invited 'Gilver' to dinner.

A fake father, a fake mother… he was disgracing their family! Grue wasn't worthy to be his partner. When his demons had said they needed a sacrifice he told them who to take.

Grue had died well. Vergil should honor him for that. He didn't think about why it made him even more angry. Yet Dante didn't make the obvious assumption that demons had done it. The demons were hunting him, Grue was his 'friend' and partner, it should be obvious!

He'd guessed Vergil had been the one to kill the Oz Club. So foolish of Dante to let this Denvers live that long. No one should dare attack his twin! So he'd killed them all, ripped out their beating hearts.

And had Dante seen it was necessary? Vergil had needed to lie to him. Dante respected him for not being terrified of demons as Grue had been (another sign Dante should not have wasted time on him!). Dante had asked him what he had seen as though Dante doubted the fight and the demons had been real!

He missed his brother! Six years in hiding, he'd looked forward to their reunion, to Dante joyfully recognizing him, and this was it?

What had happened to his brother!

Their first meeting… he'd been heartened by Dante saying he wanted to keep fighting. When they had crossed blades… everything had seemed right, finally together again, Dante's strength a match for his own, he'd felt like they could take on the world.

Then there had been that drinking contest. He shuddered at the memory.

"Hey, you all right Gilver?" Dante looked up from his strawberry sundae (Dante had always loved sweets while Vergil preferred meat), and it was pitiful how much he wanted that concern, the knowledge that Dante cared that much even if the memory of his twin was so weak, all their adventures so meaningless Dante didn't even remember him.

It hurt, and he turned the pain to rage. His servants were working on a counter spell, they'd promised to cast it as soon as they got enough power from the girl. If this was a spell… he imagined light dawning on Dante's face, his always enthusiastic brother almost knocking him to the floor as he attacked him with a hug. If some human had done this, or perhaps a devil?

It might amuse one of Mundus' generals to see a son of the traitor reduced to this. No knowledge of the nobility of his blood, not able to look around him and know instantly by his power that he was not a mere human…

"I am fine, Tony."

"Come on, don't give me that. Ice Man Gilver doesn't shudder over nothing."

"I was thinking about… family." Should he or shouldn't he? It would hurt if he made his identity even more obvious and Dante _still_ didn't know him.

Suppressing memories was something weak humans did. Even so, Dante should know he was safe now! He'd become strong, he could become so much stronger if he let Vergil teach him, if they gathered an army to defeat Mundus and claim the throne their Father should have taken by right of conquest.

Still, he had to try.

He didn't want to give up on his brother. Not until he had to.

"You have a family? That's kind of a weird idea, with your secret identity and everything."

"They're dead." Not quite, not yet. "If we're sharing, what about yours?"

Dante hesitated. "My mother was murdered when I was a kid. An enemy of my father's. She was a saint, too good for him… Anyway, I ran, lived on the streets for a few years. My master plan is to go back home one of these days, find the guy that did it, and kill the bastard."

"That must have been… traumatic."

Tony shrugged. "Look, this doesn't go any farther, okay? I don't want to warn the guys I'm coming. I haven't even told Grue this."

Dante trusted him, even though he didn't know? "If you want any help…"

Dante shook his head. "No, this is my family matter. I need to do this alone. Thanks, though." A smile, just like his brother's smile on his brother's face, but the mind? A stranger.

They'd played together, done everything together. He remembered Mother's death but not that he'd had a brother?

Poisonous human emotions. Like a cancer, eating away at him. Mother had been an amazing human, far superior to the rest of their kind, but still her weakness… if Sparda had married a devil, would she have been able to defend his children instead of dying for the last time that night? If Vergil had full blood would he have been able to protect her and his brother instead of running?

He hoped and almost prayed it was a spell.

Or his brother had died that night, and all that was left was this hollow shell that mocked him.

"The offer stands."

"Thanks, buddy." Dante slurped down the rest of the sundae shamelessly. Same bad table manners, when Mother hadn't been watching.

A hundred little mannerisms. Things that screamed his brother, and yet…

He'd checked. This wasn't a fake or an imposter. He'd wanted to believe that at first, even though there was all the evidence. He hated the idea that his brother didn't care enough to remember him, to hold on to the memory. Just like Mother had loved Dante more… Dante was the more human one, the weaker one.

And if this was caused by trauma, wasn't Mother's death what he would have forgotten? "Was it painful?"

"I saw her body. She was ripped apart." Dante looked away. "Bobby! Bring me a drink!"

Mother… weak and human as she had been, she'd died protecting them. If she hadn't held them off, he and Dante couldn't have escaped. Only a few had come after him, and with his powers developing he'd survived. It had been close, but he'd won.

If he and Dante had stayed and fought… at least Dante had the courage to go back and find her. If only Vergil had done that instead of kept running… but that was what Mother had wanted him to do. He'd been the good boy, Dante had always… Mother would be angry Dante had gone back.

But if Vergil had guessed that Dante would be so stupid he would have found him, and they would have been together all this time.

For the hundredth time he debated just telling Dante.

But what if he still, still didn't remember? Or what if he lied and said he did remember so Vergil would feel better? Dante, even Tony, genuinely liked Gilver. He might lie and Vergil would only suspect. Dante would pity him, feel sorry he didn't care about Vergil like he should.

And, the little research that he had done… what if he started to build up false memories around the things Vergil told him to try to jog his memories? What if telling him prevented him from ever truly remembering all the times they had shared?

It wasn't just his human emotions, his devil instincts wanted his nestmate, his twin. One of the demons that served him had dared to taunt him with it. He was not a child! He was already strong, and would grow stronger! He could survive alone, he had!

But he didn't want to. "I'm sorry it happened like that."

"I'm over it. Still going to rip _them_ apart." Dante would never be able to do that as the weak human he pretended to be, denying his abilities.

The powers that he had inherited instead of Vergil.

The good thing about having twins was that they could fight alongside each other. The bad thing was that the powers they inherited were halved. If Vergil killed Dante, took his soul and his power, then? Then he would never be alone again.

His brother would always fight with him. Together, they could kill Mundus, claim their Father's power, rule the demon world and protect humanity, since they couldn't protect themselves, in their Father's memory.

His legend would be celebrated instead of thought of as a mere fairytale.

In fact… Mundus had committed atrocities. Father must have objected to the cruelty. But humans did unspeakable things to each other despite Father's heroism.

Demons were stronger than humans. The strong were superior to the weak. Father had protected. Surely he would approve of protecting humans from themselves. Father had felt shamed by the fact he had been a traitor, that was why he had not taken the power he deserved. Honorable Father. But his son could bring about his dream.

And Dante, Dante who should be his ally, fight by his side, was… the brother Vergil remembered would surely be horrified by what he had become. Not even remembering… his brother had loved him!

Right?

But if he loved him why had he forgotten him?

He shouldn't care so much. Weak human emotions that clawed at him.

"Hey," Tony said, obviously offering to change the subject. "After we finish up the mission do you want to spar?"

"Yes." Of course.

Their sword styles were one more clue to their identities. Vergil knew Rebellion, knew Dante's style wielding it, and Dante seemed to know Yamato somehow, countering things he otherwise shouldn't have been able to counter. Or was that only wistful thinking?

Was it the humans?

Dante had reached out to them for the companionship only they should have shared. It was easy to seduce the mercenaries away from 'Tony's' example of mercy. Killers, all of them, who took innocent lives, even though Dante avoided killing and sugarcoated things. They mocked Dante now, for showing mercy. They dared?

And Dante still didn't see how worthless they all were. Worshipping the one who held them in contempt instead of the one who gave them unearned respect. If Vergil attacked them now, Dante would defend them, stop him from killing them all. Fight his own brother for such worthless scum?

He didn't want to think it.

He didn't want to think that his brother was already dead, and all that was left was putting down a sick animal, like a horse with a broken leg. Would it be a mercy?

'Tony' didn't even deserve to die by Yamato's blade. So he'd taken the gun, to kill something that wasn't a man but was trapped in the weak mind of one.

Dying because of a creation of that fake mother of his. He even disgraced their mother's memory! The woman had been afraid of him! Had she even warned Tony, or cowered in fear?

If he killed Tony would Dante rise from the ashes?

"Great, thanks!" Dante's so bright smile. "I love sparring with you. No one's as fast as I am, and you even use a sword too! I have to admit I've been getting rusty, just swinging the thing like a club because that's all it takes."

That… Aargh! Gilver was the only one as fast as Tony, even he realized it. They both used swords, did he think it was a coincidence? Did nothing get through his thick skull!

He wanted to _hurt_ this fool who didn't realize the power and honor he had been given! The fool who didn't even care for his own twin, who had spent so long trying to find him! He smiled, envisioning Yamato running him through as he gasped in confusion. Not realizing anything. "I enjoy sparring with you as well. No one else is even close to being a match for me."

"You're as arrogant as I am," Dante laughed, and Vergil seethed. Didn't he _see_ their kinship? How could he be so blind? "This is going to be fun."

"Yes."

Vergil felt betrayed. No, Dante had not only betrayed him, but Sparda's memory. The pride of their devil's blood. Even Mother had wanted them to be proud of what they were, and Dante, no, Tony (it was easy to hate Tony, what his brother had become, so much easier than to think Dante didn't care for him) knew nothing.

Vergil had to call the demons off when Dante grew too tired. Close to losing and he had not called on his true power, nothing, not even a high jump to escape.

It made no _sense_.

His pride kept him from breaking down and begging Dante to recognize him. If he showed his face would there be only confusion in those eyes he saw in the mirror? Would there be fear this was a demonic trick instead of his beloved older brother? Would Dante think he was telling a lie if he told him of his glorious heritage? Some evil plot?

He wanted to _strangle_ him! This oblivious fool… Mundus had risen, the world their father had saved, weak humanity was about to be brutally conquered, and he had thrown away his knowledge and power!

Look at him, so innocently smiling at the thought of a sparring match. When they should be spending all their time training and gathering forces! Together they could (and would) defeat even stronger demons, gain weapons (though he would always treasure Yamato, his memento of his father), techniques and power, the power the needed, the strength they deserved.

If Father had not been taken from them… Dante had hated Father for failing them, failing Mother. Was that why he wiped him from his memory. But why Vergil as well?

"We've got to fight together more." Dante drank. Weak poison. "It's almost better than sex."

Sex? With a weakling? Dante would risk having children? There were… ways of preventing that right? Mother had never explained it… tell him he didn't have bastard nephews! That would just be the last straw. "I wouldn't know."

Dante stared. "What the," his voice lowered, "You're a _virgin?_"

"It's called _chastity. _Self-control." Not polluting himself.

"You do realize you've just given me the best blackmail material ever." Dante shook his head. "Seriously, Gilver, we've got to get you laid. It would do you a world of good."

"You are sixteen. Is that even legal?"

"Don't know, don't care. And you're older than me."

"How do you know?"

"Don't worry, I haven't figured out your secret identity. I can just tell from how you act, that's all."

Good. He'd killed the one person who had made the connection between Vergil the assassin in Europe (he'd gone there to see if Dante had returned to the castle, and used his real name so Dante could hear of him. It hadn't worked, so he had begun to travel the world as a bounty hunter) and Gilver the mercenary.

"You don't act your age."

"Hey, I'm sixteen! How many sixteen-year-olds support themselves? I'm plenty mature for my age."

For a human, but he could be so much more! "You act like a child." He'd been eight the last time Vergil had seen him, and there had been so much more wisdom in his eyes! Then, he had understood his destiny, his potential.

Vergil didn't think about the pain that had been there as well, the pain he had never understood. Tony's carefree innocence was something he hated. He knew that Dante was happy, and it hurt that Tony was so happy 'without Vergil.' Happy with his fake family.

He was friendly to Gilver, but he was friendly to that parasite Enzo. They took missions together but they weren't as close as Tony and Grue had been. Tony still looked around, even when he sat with Gilver, checking when someone walked in to see if they were Grue, and he was disappointed when they weren't.

He would be angry when he found out the man had died because of Vergil.

Part of him wanted that, wanted Dante to feel as betrayed as Vergil felt. Wanted him to hurt, miss his fake partner and realize how much he had hurt his _true_ partner by ignoring him.

He'd hoped the death would get Dante angry enough at the demons that he would release his true power, but he held on to the foolish hope he was alive. Too bad the grenade had made the body unrecognizable.

Even though they had partnered on most missions for weeks Tony was still as willing to sit with Enzo as Vergil. He just carelessly sat at the bar, or with whoever he saw first, or wherever he randomly felt like.

Didn't he sense the bond between them? Why didn't he!

The agents had arrived, offering jobs, and Vergil let them crowd around him, looking at Dante out of the corner of his eye. Dante wasn't even jealous. They shouldn't be jealous at each other (though Vergil knew he was: he had been the better child, yet Dante had been the better loved) so he should be happy Dante had no trouble yielding to him, yet… Was nothing Vergil did important to him unless it involved those, those, imposters!

He schooled his expression even though it was unnecessary and picked a job that had specifically requested both of them. Dante seemed to expect this, coming with Vergil without being asked.

But if Grue had been here Dante would have wanted a job that included him, maybe even turned Gilver down to fight with a mere human instead of his twin.

But at least Dante was still willing to take missions with him even though Vergil did not share his qualms about killing humans. In fact… a test?

Kill a lot of humans (murderers, of course) in front of him on a mission and see how he reacted?

While Tony had one last ice cream sundae before heading out on the job (so unprofessional), Vergil schemed, plans and possibilities circling in his head.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He feared he had a pretty good idea. In fact the devil in him yearned for it, to prove his superiority and regain his nestmate. The human in him… Mother would not like this plan. Mother would not see that sacrifices had to be made. Father had killed the priestess, but…

"Hey Gilver, I ordered bloody marys! Let's have a toast before we go, to partners in crime!"

But he couldn't leave his brother like this.


	7. Ebony & Ivory: Firepower

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_Well… I'm writing this far in advance of when it'll be posted. This might be the last thing I post for a while, there might be another one after it, or… It'll be interesting to see where I am when this gets posted. _

_Yes, Dante does say "time to go to work, guys," in DMC1. However, that 'guys' could include Force Edge, which as Sparda's sword is 'male.' Ebony and Ivory have pictures of women on them, hence I view them as female. Nell calls them children, too. Which is great, since I already portrayed them as children in 'Functional' and my other stuff. There's a reference to those drabbles here. _

_Having to integrate the novel with the existence of Luce & Ombra. Yay for plotholes! _

_- _

Cradled in their holsters again they cried softly. Mommy had gone, and Daddy had used them but he wasn't happy, even though the one who had killed Mommy had gone away.

Daddy paused in his packing. He had told the man he was going away. He also said his name was Dante, but wasn't it Tony? Mommy had asked them to look after Tony, and so had the other ghost-person.

They didn't understand anything that was going on. How were they supposed to help him?

They were quickly drawn, Daddy pointing them around the room. Then he froze, listening. He took Ivory and held her to his ear, then shook her. "What the…" His eyes narrowed. He holstered Ebony and picked out one of the silver things he wore, passing it over Ivory. She tried to stop crying and pay attention. "Nothing demonic," he muttered. Then he shook her.

She eeped.

He tossed both of them over onto the bed. It bounced slightly under them, which was an interesting feeling. He stood there, arms crossed. "Talk. What are you, and why are you possessing my new guns?"

"We aren't possessing them!" Ebony protested.

He drew the big sword. He used it more than them. They were jealous. But in the end, they had made the bad guy go away! "Who are you?"

"I'm Ebony, and my sister's Ivory," Ebony explained. "Hello Daddy!" She sniffed a little, cheered up to be talking to him. She wanted to do more… and then she found she wasn't a gun anymore. She smiled. "Cool!"

Ivory did the same thing, pushing on the bed and bouncing a little experimentally.

Daddy stared. Ivory waved, smiling.

"My guns just turned into little girls? What the…" He stopped before he said the h-word, even though they knew the h-word. It was where the bad things came from, Mommy had said. "What are you?"

"You know. You made us. Well, Mommy did most of the work but you helped," Ebony reminded him.

Ivory nodded, supporting her sister. "And then we helped you beat the bad guy!" Weren't they good girls? Mommy had said so. That made her think of Mommy. She started crying again.

Ebony hugged her, looking at Daddy. They shouldn't cry in front of Daddy! It would make them look silly.

"You cry. Devils never cry. Mother said that." He holstered the big sword. "So… what are you?"

"Guns," Ebony reminded him, squeezing Ivory.

"You're not ordinary guns. Even Luce and Ombra never turned into girls."

Ivory hiccupped and looked at Ebony. "Mommy said she made us like others. Are those them?"

Dante frowned and dug around in a bag, pulling out two guns that did look just like them! Ebony and her sister leaned forward to see.

Dante put them down on the ground and passed the talisman over them. "Demonic… but you're not. If anyone's in there, come out!"

Willowy women appeared, looking like Ebony and Ivory but older. They were there only for a few moments, then vanished again. Daddy's eyes narrowed. "Talk to me."

"They're hungry," Ivory said, explaining for the big thems.

"Hungry?" Daddy looked suspicious.

"We're fine," Ebony assured him, "We just ate."

"Ate?"

"When we killed the bad things. Mommy said we'd get power from them. She read it in books."

"Mommy?"

Ivory cried again. "Mommy!"

Ebony hugged her. "She made the bits of us, and then you put us together, Daddy. She was dying, she said, and because she died when we were made we're alive. She said it's old magic stuff."

"Human magic?" He scratched his head. "Black magic."

"Mommy's not evil!" Ivory complained. "She made us to help you! Only you said you lied to her and weren't who she thought you were."

"I told her who I thought I was." He frowned. "I don't know… how could I remember Mommy dying and not remember why she was killed or what killed her? About father? About the fact I had a brother?" A fist clenched. "She died because of me. She should have called 911 and instead she stayed there in a burning building finishing up you two and waiting for me to come… she told me I had to put the pieces together. She said you were…. Children…"

They nodded. "We woke up then. And Mommy told us things, and this other person. Then they went away after you shot the bad guy."

"She… a ghost?"

They nodded.

"The old lady was… why? All I did was mouth off to her, and she…" Daddy looked sad.

They looked at each other, got off the bed, and hugged him. He seemed surprised.

"Mommy made us to help you, Daddy. She told us to. And we're good girls and we're going to help you kill things," Ivory explained.

Ebony nodded, squeezing him. "The bad guy disappeared, but you're not happy. Why?"

"I think he was my brother."

They looked at each other. "Like we're sisters?"

"I guess you are twins too, so yeah."

"Your brother killed Mommy?"

"And a shitload of other people." His hands clenched on their shoulders, very tight. Then he released them. "Sorry about that."

They blinked. "Why?"

He blinked. "Didn't that hurt?"

"What's hurt? Like when Mommy died? No." Ivory shook her head.

"You're not human."

"No, we're guns." Ebony pouted. "We _told_ you."

He sniffed. "You smell like guns." Then he grimaced. "It's not normal to be able to smell this good, is it?"

"Normal?"

"I'm not human either."

"You mean you're like us?" Ivory smiled brightly. He was their Daddy, after all.

"No." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what I am. You're enchanted weapons, created by human sacrifice, I get that. I'm not that."

Ivory deflated and looked at Ebony, who shrugged. He might not be them but at least he knew what they were now. "You're Daddy." He should know that.

"And you're special," Ebony told him. "You're our only shooter. Mommy said not to let anyone else use us."

"We're her masterpieces and we're unique," Ivory said proudly. "You're the only one who has guns like us."

"What about Luce and Ombra?" Daddy pointed out.

"They're not exactly like us. We're better." Of course they were better, Mommy had told them they were her best work, and Mommy was the best gunsmith.

"Well, you're not demons." He pulled Ivory away from his leg to look like her.

"What?" She asked.

"You look… sort of like Mommy."

She nodded. "I'm blonde. Ebony's not."

"I'm blonde! I'm just darker blonde!" She stuck her tongue out.

Daddy laughed. Yay! They'd made Daddy laugh!

"You really think I look like Mommy?" Ivory asked happily.

"I meant my mommy."

"Your mommy? Grandma?"

He chuckled at the thought. "Well, she did love guns. Now what were you saying about ghosts?"

"Mommy went with us and helped us get strong, then this other ghost who was watching you helped her."

"We blasted the bad guy!" Ivory punched the air happily.

"But we can't do it like that by ourselves," Ebony said shamefully. "We need help."

"Other ghost?"

"Mommy called him Grue."

"Grue. So he is dead." His hair hid his eyes as his face tilted down.

They hugged him again, partly for their own comfort. "And Mommy's dead too!" Ivory sniffled.

Ebony kept telling Daddy what he wanted to know. "They wanted to help you. They told us to keep helping you. So we will. After you beat the bad guy they went away. Only the bad guy was your brother."

"Why did Uncle Gilver kill Mommy?" Ivory asked, peering mournfully up at Daddy.

"Vergil. His name is, or maybe was, Vergil. He might be dead now. He just sort of faded away." Eyes still didn't look at them.

"We saw."

"I don't think we killed him. Sorry, Daddy!" Squeeze, and hope he wouldn't push them away. They were made for Daddy. They didn't have any point but killing things for him. If he decided they were bad weapons because they hadn't killed the bad guy he might put them away like the other two and they'd never get to help him like Mommy had told them to!

"I hope he's still alive," Daddy said finally.

"Why?"

"So I can beat the crap out of him again." Daddy finally smiled, an I'm-going-to-kill-things smile.

They smiled back.

"Yeah, you're my kids. I'm not even seventeen and I'm a dad! Grue would…"

They hugged his legs again. Daddy was tall.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you? I can't even look after Grue's kids. Enzo said he'd smuggle them off to an orphanage somewhere so they wouldn't get used as hostages… Damn, if Vergil goes after them too…"

"We're supposed to do things for you, not you for us," Ebony told him.

"We'll shoot things and help protect you, like Mommy said," Ivory assured him.

"The old lady." He hugged them. "Damn. If she'd known…"

"Mommy liked you a lot. You made her happy."

"Yeah, but I'm just like the _thing_ that killed her. I wish I'd never remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"About what I am. About why my Mother died. About _him_. I thought he was dead, I was sure of it. He must have run too. Or did they catch him? They killed me, thought I was dead, so… maybe that's why he's helping demons. Mother must be spinning in her grave. If she got a grave. I left her body in the burning house. I wanted it to be a funeral pyre, and now Nell's gone the same way. I wonder if she was quick enough to shoot him, at least?" He looked at them hopefully.

Ivory shook her head. "He stabbed her in the back."

"I saw. He didn't finish her off, though. Maybe… no, he killed all the mercenaries."

"The other ghost tried to kill him before. That's why he stayed, he knew it would take something special to kill him. We're sorry, we did our best."

"He killed Grue too. And Jessica, she was just a kid! How could he have… My own brother, and he's siding with demons against humans. He killed them! I was happy here, I was happy not remembering _what_ I was, and he killed them just because they were nice to me, just because I cared about them!" He was shaking now. "I hope he's dead, but I didn't feel him die. He just… he didn't answer me! That was why I didn't figure it out right away when I remembered, Gilver-Vergil is a damn stupid anagram. I just didn't want to believe it. It would be better if he had died! Damn him!"

"Why were you Tony and now Dante?"

"After mother died, father's sword spoke to me." Dante thought for a second and touched the talisman to the sword. "Damn, it's demonic too… and I've carried it all these years. Can you do anything?" The sword was silent. "And I just… didn't remember anything. I saw the name Tony Redgrave on Luce and Ombra, so when someone asked me what my name was I said that. I didn't want to think about it so I didn't. That bastard. He must have been trying to remind me. That sword he had, that was Father's sword too. It must have bugged the hell out of him when I didn't recognize my own brother. Not that I'd want to recognize him."

Ebony and Ivory looked at each other. Not want to recognize your twin? They knew they'd never fight each other, they both served Daddy. That was good to know.

"Of course I didn't want to remember, I didn't want to remember. Why would anyone want to remember they're a monster? Why would Vergil want to _be_ a monster? How could he say things like that about humanity? Doesn't he remember Mother? She protected us. She loved us. She wasn't weak or anything like that."

The two of them had no idea what he was talking about, but they listened. That was something they could do for him besides shooting.

"Nell, Grue… lucky Enzo wasn't there at the bar. I've got to leave this town, they know I'm cursed now, even if they don't know why."

"You're not cursed!" Ivory protested.

"Yeah? Then why does anyone who gives a damn about me die?" He laughed. "I as good as killed your mother, you know. If she hadn't stayed there to finish you she might have made it. She was lucid up until the end, then she was talking to her real son. She was asking his ghost to look after me! Did he turn up?"

They shook their heads.

"Damn. At least she would have gotten to see her real son." He tugged a big rock on a chain out from his shirt. "Dante and Vergil. My mother gave me this, it's my last memento of her. I just never looked at the back." He shuddered again, and tugged loose of them to plop down on the bed, stare at the ceiling. "I'm like a bloody cuckoo. Grue took me in, the old bastard treated me like a son and Jessica's dead because of me. That's how I lost my last guns, in that fire. I'll probably break you two soon enough." He laughed hollowly. "I always break everything the old lady makes for me, wasting all her hard work. I still owe her money. And she fed me and I just imposed on her. Took advantage. Took."

"We won't break!" Ivory was incredibly insulted. "We're special!"

"She fucking died making you for me." His hand slammed down on the bed and there was a crack as the beam broke. "She shouldn't have cared. I'm not worth that. I'm not worth_ anything._ Killing, that's all I can do."

"She said you didn't like to kill people." Ebony leaned over him.

"Yeah? Well I'm _good_ at killing. I can kill demons. That's something." He seemed calmer, and then he slammed the bed again. "I'm not crying! I didn't cry then and I'm not crying now! Devils never cry! So am I a devil? I should cry for her, she cared… no, she didn't just care, she loved me enough to fucking die for me and I can't cry for her! And Grue, he taught me a lot and he'd always loan me money even though he was always strapped and they'd talk to me and… Hell!"

They hugged him again.

"You're probably safe. You're not human. Enzo's okay because I didn't really give a damn about him. I spent years killing only when I had to. But I liked it when I did, when it was _justified,_ to protect myself. I killed humans, Mother told me to never kill humans. I'm not worth humans dying. She didn't mean it that way but it's the truth." He flipped over, burying his head in the pillows. "Why can't I fucking cry! When it happened, I just held her, and then I went to go kill." His shoulders shook. "That's what I want to do now. I want to kill some more demons. Starting with Father dearest, wherever the hell he is."

"Grandfather?" Ebony asked.

"The reason I'm not human. The reason Mother's dead and Vergil's like this. If I had a goddamn time machine, but no, he's the hero, he saved the goddamn world, and then he disappeared when we needed him. Fuck him. It's all his fault." He looked up again, eyes hard. "It's all his fault I was lying to them."

"Lying?" They didn't understand any of this, but they had to understand.

"They thought I was Tony. I thought I was Tony. And Tony was _human._" He held up the talisman, looked at it, and it started to glow. "I'm a demon. See? Now it's on it's reacting to me." He dropped it again and the glow vanished. "Hell."

"You're a demon? Like the things we killed?" Ebony asked, dismayed.

"Well of course he is. Gilver was Vergil was his Twin. Gilver's a demon so Tony's a demon. It makes sense," Ivory told her.

"Yeah, he's a demon too. Devil, technically, but who the hell cares." He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. "Now they know I'm alive I can't let myself forget. Wherever I go they'll find me. Damn!" And the innocent bed was hit again. "I liked being human! I liked not knowing I was… I can't let this happen again. I can't let myself care again. Hell, I don't care if I live or die."

"Mommy wanted you to live! So did the other ghost!" Ebony said frantically.

"We won't let them kill you! We'll shoot them!"

He laughed.

"Stop acting strange!" Ivory pleaded.

"How can I _not_ act strange? I _am _strange. I'm a goddamn freak. If they'd known they wouldn't have cared about me and they'd still be _alive._"

They looked at each other, each hoping the other had some idea of how to fix this. They were supposed to help him! But this wasn't something they could shoot. Well, they could stop him being a demon by killing him, which seemed like a good idea except they were supposed to protect him. "If you try to kill yourself with us we're not firing!" Ivory yelled at him.

"Yeah!" Ebony agreed. "Mommy read books! When she saw you fight she said she knew you were special! She would have cared about you anyway!"

"You don't know that." He just sounded weary now. "But she did care about me. So did my real Mother. Demons killed them all. I can kill demons. I can avenge the hell out of them and they still won't come back."

"We're here."

"Yeah, but you're not human. _Not_ just like me."

"We made Mommy dead, just like shooting her. She stayed to make us."

"She said she was glad she did, but that doesn't change anything. Mommy's gone."

"So we have to keep you alive, to make it up to Mommy."

"You're saying I should shut the fuck up and just live with it because she wouldn't have wanted me to be a goddamn crybaby?"

Ebony blinked. "We didn't say anything like that." She looked at Ivory for help.

"It would make Mommy happy for you to be happy."

"Same with my Mommy, I owe her a lot more than that. I'm going to kill them."

"Who?"

"We'll help!"

"The devils responsible for killing my mother. I just hid. I couldn't do anything, I was too weak. Just like I was too goddamn _trusting_ to kill Vergil. She _told_ me he wasn't human, and I didn't care. He was a good partner. I liked fighting beside him, someone who used a sword like me, someone just like me. I don't think I can kill him, even after all he did. I don't think I can avenge them."

"If she knew he wasn't human maybe she knew you were?" Ebony asked hopefully.

"Maybe." He didn't seem to care. "Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to react to finding out I'm not human?" He clenched his fists. "Why couldn't Mother have married a nice normal mob boss? Damn it. I wish I could go to bed and wake up tomorrow evening and they'd still be alive and my name would be Tony. Dante. I _hate_ that name!"

"It's not that different," Ebony said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, they've both got Ts an Ns."

He just looked at them. "One's a human's name and the other's a… I'm not even a real demon. Traitor's son. And human demon hunters won't like me either. Especially with Vergil going around blackening the family name. Oh hell, why do I care? I'll just kill them. That's what I fucking do."

"We'll help!" Killing things they were good at. They were new but they had done a very good job.

"I don't want to kill humans. Ugh." He closed his eyes for a bit and sighed. Then he sat up and beckoned them over. "Come here."

He hugged them. "Thanks."

"What for?"

"We haven't done a good job making you feel good."

"You listened to me whine and didn't shoot me, just like the old lady did. I bet she'd have said something biting if she'd found out and not given a damn. Or said nothing at all. But she's gone now. She wouldn't want me to cry."

"No."

"If you breathe a word of any of what I said her to anyone I'm tossing you in a melting vat even if you are her children. Can't have devil hunter Dante being teased for being a baby."

"We'd never tell!"

"Why would we talk to anyone but you?"

"Hell, I'll pack later. Let's go get ice cream."

And so they were introduced to strawberry sundaes, which were very good even though they didn't need to eat, and were patted on the head by a nice old lady who didn't much look like Mommy, and they all felt a lot better. At least they hoped Daddy felt better. Daddy was very nice.

He was asked if he was taking his little sisters out for ice cream and he said no, but told them his mother had wanted daughters.

He got yelled at by Enzo for spending the bus fare to New York, but they weren't allowed to shoot Enzo. How dare he yell at Daddy!

They would get to kill more demons in New York.

They looked forward to it.


	8. Enzo Sr, novel Enzo: Mafia

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_The Enzo in the novel is very little like manga Enzo. The height and the name are about the only thing in common. Novel Enzo is a well-established middleman with a rep: he gives jobs to a lot of people. Manga Enzo is a punk kid who is Dante's personal agent._

_I've decided, by authorial decree, that they shall be two different characters therefore, for the name Enzo is a common one in the Ferino family. So mote it be. _

_After this, I'm doing Luce & Ombra, Doppelganger, Artemis, Nightmare Gamma and Alastor (going back and doing ones I missed). After that, SIn goes on hiatus because I'm out of characters until I manage to play one of the other games Dante appears in (I would like to do Hitoshura), or until the second novel comes out in November (about a week before my birthday!). _

_I'm not doing Mundus because this fic focuses on Dante's allies, the people who help them. I'm not doing a Dante-only SIn for that reason as well. _

_And I really should start writing. _

_-_

Enzo was trying really hard not to feel responsible.

Practically every mercenary in the city was dead, except for Tony, and To-Dante, wasn't going to stick around. Probably a good idea.

The ability of people with small gangs but a lot of money to hire extra muscle had kept people from going after them. Now a lot of shit would be going down real fast, and the dust probably wouldn't settle until a lot of mercenaries had moved in or been brought in from out of town. Which wouldn't happen real soon, not in large numbers. Mercenaries were superstitious. Look at To-Dante, and his collection of amulet thingies.

A lot of people carried rabbits feet and stuff, but Tony was the only one who weighed himself down like that. And he was the only one who had survived. Funny, huh? Made you think there was something to it.

From the rumors that were circulating… a lot of people were going to think Tony, who recently had got a rep as being bad luck, was responsible for this. The Oz Club was dead, but that wouldn't stop the suicidal being after revenge.

Ditching the name Tony and starting over was a good idea.

He doubted the thought had occurred to Dante. Tony would never think of hiding like that, and this new Dante wouldn't want to hide.

Tony had always been a little crazy. Convinced he was invincible. He'd shrug off insults, loss of status like Gilver (Vergil) had caused, because he was… sure of himself.

Dante, though… there was a manic glitter in those eyes. Someone who just didn't care because they didn't care about anything, not because they had confidence. Tony had laughed off impossible odds. Dante seemed to want them.

Tony had lasted two years, starting out as a kid. Dante… Dante had survived what had killed almost everybody in town. Enzo didn't know how much longer he would survive. He acted like a punk kid with nothing to lose, one of the ones that picked up a gun to avenge someone who'd bought in a gang war and went out in a blaze of glory.

Enzo had tried to tell himself it was none of his damn business. This was a rough business, and he should want people to forget he'd been associated with Tony. He damn well wanted people to forget he was the one who had introduced Gilver to everybody. Damn, he'd had good credentials, how was he supposed to know he was a damn evil twin? Like something out of a B movie. And there was lots more Dante wasn't telling.

Los Angeles had used to have people who… dealt with the weird things. Enzo had called them in a few times. They'd disappeared right after Gilver came to town. Enzo didn't believe in coincidences much.

It was crazy, but how else could you explain what happened? One man taking down everyone on Bobby's Cellar?

Tony could have done it, he knew.

He should be staying away from Tony, no, Dante. But damn it, the kid needed him.

So he'd walked To-Dante home from the bar where they'd gotten sloshed and Dante had told him the story. Left him there to sleep it off. He'd let Dante make him promise to get Grue's kids out of town. That wasn't in his job description, but he'd always prided himself on being the perfect informant, able to find out anything the customer wanted. A place for a couple orphans was nothing.

The girls were staying with one of his cousins now.

Thing was, this was all Dante's fault. The things, Gilver had come her looking for him. He was dangerous to be around. Everyone who had liked the kid had bit the dust except for Enzo. He'd lived on the edge enough to know when he was in deep shit.

Yet he still ended up here, in the early morning, with some cheap suitcases someone had dug up in the attic. He'd barely got any sleep, making calls to the head of the family.

Before Gilver came, Enzo had been the most respected informant (and middleman on the side) in town. Now?

He'd manage.

So here he was, swaggering up to the door of the place where Tony rented a room and banging on it.

Dante's head poked out the window. "What? Enzo?"

"In the flesh. So let me in already."

"It's too damn early in the morning."

"Let me in or I'll keep banging away and wake everybody else up. I've got an offer you can't refuse."

"Give me a sec, okay?" Dante's head disappeared.

Looking at him, it was a lot easier to remember to think of him as Dante. He seemed like a totally different person somehow. It was jarring, but Enzo didn't let it faze him.

Damn Gilver. Someone was going to put a price on his head, and if the track record of people trying to take down Tony was anything to go by… And Vergil liked killing people instead of trying to avoid it. So more people were going to die chasing after him.

Or maybe this would just end up covered up. Probably. You called in the right people, they dealt with it, and then it was over. That was how it worked.

The door slammed open and Dante pulled Enzo inside. "Whoa!"

Yesterday Dante had been a hell of a sight. All beat up. Enzo had been shocked, he'd never seen so much as a scratch on him before. Now he was back to normal. The people who… dealt with stuff had something for that, he'd heard rumors, but they went ballistic if people tried to dig around in that kind of stuff.

People would do crazy shit for an edge, Enzo knew from long experience. Maybe that was how a bounty hunter had ended up… No, he'd probably never been an ordinary bounty hunter.

Enzo wasn't going to ask anything more than what Dante had told him. What he didn't know he didn't have to inform on.

"What's with the luggage?"

"They're for you."

Dante pointed to a bag. "I've already got everything." There was a pause. "Thanks, though." And he smiled.

It was almost Tony's smile, almost totally carefree, but there was a darkness in the eyes. Somehow like that you saw in people after their first kill, while they were ashamed of it. But he hadn't killed Gil-Vergil, his brother.

That was a shock. The masked man? There had always been something creepy about him. Dante had said Nell tried to warn him, that he'd known all along something was up with the guy. Since the first time they fought, when Enzo brought him over to the bar. Something about being too fast.

Long lost evil twin, something out of a soap opera.

"You're just taking one bag?"

Dante shrugged. "I haven't got much stuff. The bag, and Rebellion, and my guitar."

"Guitar?" There was indeed an electric guitar, with a pretty classy set of amps, in a corner. "You play?"

"Sure." But he didn't seem to feel the urge to demonstrate, instead putting the guitar in a case. "I'm going to travel light."

"I'll have the stuff shipped to New York for you. You can't live out of a bag." Enzo shook his head firmly.

"Shipped to... New York? How did you know I was going there?" Dante stared at him. It seemed like the first time this conversation all his attention had been on Enzo.

"Well, since you said you were going to find someplace else to set up shop… you said you were going to be a hunter, and the ones in New York just disappeared. So…"

"My mother used to be a hunter there."

"So that's settled. My second cousin said he'd assign somebody to help you set up shop. His name is Enzo too."

"Small world." A reckless grin. "And I bet you've told him all about me."

"Hey, I am an informant." Enzo held up his hands to deflect the accusation.

"Yeah. Middleman."

At least he could still joke. "That's only a sideline." _Was_ only a sideline.

And it looked like Dante realized it too. "Thanks."

"Hey, you have to look after your clients. That's the only way you get anywhere in this business," Enzo reminded him. "There's a lot of work for you in New York. Things are getting weird there. So helping you get set up there does the whole family a favor, not just you." Maybe the whole world.

"Family, huh?" And there was suddenly a very… ironic, wild, just plain strange look on Dante's face. And then he came back down to Earth and gave Enzo a searching look. "What about Grue's kids?"

"They're safe."

Dante grimaced and looked away.

"Look, I don't get everything that's going on, and I don't want to know, but…"

"Don't try to say it wasn't my fault."

"Hey, you didn't do anything."

"Yeah. I didn't stop him. Exactly, Enzo. You're just lucky you weren't there, or you would have ended up like them."

He didn't want to imagine it. He glanced around the room and noticed the bed was a wreck. "Hey, I always land on my feet."

"You're a weasel, not a cat," Dante informed him with a smile that was trying just a little too hard.

"I can weasel out of anything," the short, thin man said proudly. "I've got the address and your money."

"Money?" Dante brightened at the word.

"Yeah, there's a fund for weird stuff. This comes out of it." A lot of people had been contributing to it recently, trying to get somebody from out of town to come in and take care of things. But apparently things were getting tough all over, people too busy to leave their territories.

Someone had sounded Enzo out about having some mercenaries try to handle it. He'd been considering hiring Tony and Gilver, as the ones least likely for it to be a death sentence, taking the job. Ordinary mercs couldn't handle the weird shit. But then, they hadn't been ordinary.

The people who had given Gilver a lot of jobs must be quaking in their boots, hoping people wouldn't suspect them of paying him to have the demons wreck havoc. A drug party, the Oz Club… the people who had hired Enzo who had ended up hiring Gilver to look into (ended up taking out) the Oz Club were probably in a world of trouble.

Wasn't his problem.

Though if somebody wondered why he'd had the good luck to not be there that night… the fact that he'd been demoted from major player to minor middleman during Gilver's reign as most important mercenary might be his saving grace.

Had to get Tony, Dante out of town.

"I'm getting paid for letting all those guys get killed?" At first he seemed outraged, then snorted in amusement. "Least I'm getting some recognition."

"Yeah, sure." At least he took it. "When are you going to head out?"

"Today," Dante replied. "No point in staying around here." A look in his eye again… memories were here. He'd been really attached to Grue, the old man had sort of been his mentor, taught him stuff. And the old lady too.

He wasn't trying to get lost to get out of town to avoid the heat. Enzo had better be careful not to imply he was, or he might stick around just to prove everyone wrong, and that would get real nasty real fast. For one thing, people would be after the pile of cash.

"Want to go get a drink first?" Enzo offered.

"Sure." Dante picked up his bag, put the sword on his back, and then hefted the guitar. Once outside the door he locked it and tossed Enzo the keys, then picked up the guitar again.

The route to the watering hole they'd used last night took them by the wreck of Bobby's Place. There were cops there, so they made a detour at the corner. "They're saying it was a gas leak."

"But it didn't catch fire."

"It did after you left." With the help of some creative arson. Enzo hadn't been involved in that, he wasn't the kind of foot soldier you used for stuff like that. The cops were going to ignore it was arson. They didn't want this getting out either. Normally, cops and crooks were enemies (except for the dirty cops), but this was one thing where they worked together just fine.

"Hm." Dante nodded, probably guessing the real story. They got to the pub quickly, Enzo for one wanting a drink.

Dante liked strawberry sundaes too, huh? He ordered a Bloody Mary, though, instead of going straight for the stuff that would get you drunk fast. He was ticked the pub wouldn't serve him a sundae. "Hey, Enzo, want to get me a strawberry sundae?"

"No one's going to take you seriously eating those things," Enzo rolled his eyes and chided him. Both Enzo and Grue had tried to break him from those things. Enzo hated exercise and drank a lot, so he had to watch what he ate to stay skinny. If he didn't he'd never hear the end of it from his mother.

"Like I care? Go get me one." Dante gave him a push that almost slid him off the bench. "Sorry." It was like he didn't know his own strength. That was another thing that was just wrong. Tony had been really strong, sure, but he'd had control over it. Not self-control, Tony had done whatever he damn well felt like, but… control over his life. He'd done what he wanted, taken jobs that suited him even if Enzo did his best to wheedle and nag him into high-paying ones (with a good cut for Enzo).

Last night he hadn't had anything resembling a plan but get out of town. And get the girls to safety. At least getting a good sleep had helped him think. And it was just a good thing he wanted to go where Enzo wanted him to go. Things were going Enzo's way, finally. They hadn't been for a long time. Since after Gilver came to town.

Still, this wasn't exactly the Tony he'd gotten to know over the years. Tony wouldn't have hurt him. Dante… was a little more dangerous. Loose cannon kind of dangerous.

Enzo was just glad it would soon not be his job to direct that cannon. Keep him happy, get him out of town.

Tony's appearance had coincided with Enzo's rise to glory. Sad to see him go.

He'd told himself not to get attached to the kid. Mercenaries came and went. Most of them didn't live very long. Starting out at 14? He shouldn't have made it to fifteen. But here he was. Hunters weren't supposed to take merc jobs. No competition. Sort of cheating, though a lot of people offered a lot of money. Honor among thieves thing.

"Hey, get going." Dante prodded him again, more careful this time.

"I'm taking this out of your payment," Enzo grumped at him, getting up. Dante tossed him a twenty, pulled off the billroll. "Keep the change. Hey! Bar guy! Another Bloody Mary!"

He was just a kid, Enzo reflected, and all this shit happened. Made you think.

Hey, what was he thinking? A lot of shit happened to a lot of kids. Nothing unique about Tony. This was the criminal underworld, kid foot soldiers in gangs, drive-bys… But there was something unique about Tony. He'd seemed invincible, like he led a charmed life somehow. He'd always done and gotten what he wanted, supremely confident. Like one of those legendary outlaws or something, like a cowboy, one of those guys that had robbed trains and stagecoaches, the kind that became legends. Something like that.

Destined for greatness? Stupid idea, but around Tony?

Dante though, you felt it even keener, but it didn't feel like the destiny had a happy ending.

There was an ice cream parlor nearby. "For God's sake," they'd told Tony, "if you're going to eat ice cream do it there, not here!" One strawberry sundae, vanilla with strawberries on top. Enzo personally despised vanilla. Too sweet. Chocolate, now, was probably just as sugary but you didn't taste it.

When Enzo got back there was a can of beer sitting a ways away from Dante. He downed it, thinking it had been bought and opened for him. "Faugh! This stuff's almost as bad as the swill Grue drank!"

"Yeah. Almost." Dante stared glumly into the Bloody Mary. Enzo slid him the sundae to cheer him up. "Thanks," Dante said, and tucked in.

"You'd better thank me," Enzo muttered.

Dante waved his spoon at him. "Yeah, sure."

Enzo ordered himself a _decent_ drink and watched To-Dante eat. There he was forgetting the new name again. Eyes down and eating ice cream, it was so Tony. Except he'd ditched the jewelry so there wasn't all that clinking. Just one big thing, it looked like, tucked under his coat. The coat too looked a lot better than it had last night.

Soon to be none of Enzo's business, he reminded himself.

Dante ate in silence, and when he finished tossed the cup behind him, where it made a perfect landing in the trash without even looking. That was Tony too…

His instincts told him Dante was a very different animal than Tony. Like the difference between… he didn't know. Except Tony had been happy and Dante was clearly anything but. Tony had known what he was doing, Dante was, well, now he was less adrift, but when he got there would he just be going through the motions?

People were going to expect him to kill demons now, and going up against even _humans_ without being focused on the job and wanting to live was suicide. Was he arranging not a new life for the guy but his death?

He kind of had the feeling, he'd seen guys like that before, that Dante wanted to die. Guilt, all these things that hadn't touched Tony. Tony had loved being alive. Tony had been, Enzo realized it now, _playing_ with all of them. All the jobs had been so easy for him, and he'd had Grue's advice to make him back out of the ones that would have been death for a normal man and possibly difficult for Tony.

A lot of people had died last night. The guy who had walked out of that fire after the old lady, Nell, died, hadn't been Tony. Phoenix rising from the ashes? Sounded stupidly poetic…

"What the hell's going on in there?" Dante asked.

"What?" Enzo blinked, waking up from his thoughts.

"You were staring at me."

"Sorry," Enzo smiled slightly foolishly.

"Look, I'm sorry, I know I'm hot, but I'm not into guys more than twice my age." Tony was grinning.

Enzo sputtered. "Tony, you!"

"It's Dante," Dante reminded Enzo, and the moment was lost.

Only Tony would have dared imply somebody was gay. For a moment there… Enzo shook his head. "Dante, right."

"You're getting soft in the head, old man. You'll forget where you left your head next. Won't be a great loss." The smile had an edge to it, a razor sharp one, as though Dante was… acting? Acting like his old self.

What exactly had happened to him? Had just finding his brother… had they talked, what had caused this huge change? "You just wait. You've already got white hair."

"I'll never be as old as you." Meant to be a joke, but was it? Man.

"Don't joke about that, To-Dante."

"I'm going to go out in a blaze of glory," same smile. "Just watch me."

"You watch your own back," Enzo asked him. "Grue and the old lady would want it that way."

And the smile left, replaced with seriousness. "I know." His hand reached for a gun, touched it like a talisman. "You watch your back too, Enzo."

"Hey, I'm just an informant. I'm too valuable to kill," Enzo assured him. "Not like you guys. I stay back where it's safe."

Dante laughed. "Nowhere's safe."

Enzo laughed nervously. "Whatever. You'd better get going. Here's the guy to get in contact with," he handed him a piece of paper, "and here's my number. Call when you've got someplace to ship your stuff to. I don't want to pay for a storage place or keep that junk in my house, so you find someplace damn quick, okay?"

Dante shrugged. "Sure." He pocketed the notes and handed Enzo more money. "For the shipping," he explained.

Enzo counted it. "Should be enough."

Dante got up and Enzo stood as well. "Bye, Enzo," Dante said.

"You take care of yourself. I told my family you were a tough guy, and informants always tell the truth. If you die and show you're a weakling, I'll look stupid, you hear?" Enzo gave him the puppy dog eyes.

"Not that face! You irritate the hell out of me, Enzo." But Dante's eyes were laughing. "Sure, we can't have you lose your rep as the best _middleman_ in town."

"_Informant,_" Enzo corrected him, one last time. "Give 'em hell, Dante." He clapped him on the back.

Dante picked up his bag and guitar, then turned and nodded. "I will, Enzo." He saluted (with the hand holding the guitar, it somehow managed to look cool instead of stupid), and was off.


	9. Enzo Ferino: Love Thy Planet

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.

The consensus is that the 'Enzo' in the DMC3 manga sucks: he's nothing like the impression of a tough informer you get from the DMC1 testimony or the bartender interpretation of him in the comics.

One thing that intrigued me is that while he's pretty blasé about demons attacking, survives until Dante arrives, asks a question about sand, he loses it when Vergil almost kills him.

Even if Vergil is damn scary, it's totally lame to… well.

This thing was written for three purposes: as the potential part III to Seas in Incarnadine, or SIn, to write some decent Dante action since I agree with Gryffindorstef/Devil Sunday there's just too little around, and to try to rework Enzo's character so he's a little less annoying, and show how manga!Enzo could change into something more like we imagined him from DMC1/was shown in the comics. And then the fic hijacked itself, as usual.

Enjoy.

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The mature man, hair already starting to grey but eyes as sharp as ever weighed up the fidgeting teenager. "He's a punk." 

"Dad!" Enzo hissed.

"Give the boy a chance. All he has to do is find the boy and bring him back here." The person lounging in the shadows puffed on a cigarette. "Can't be that hard. All it takes is sitting in a bar and waiting."

Ferino Sr. nodded. "That's about his speed."

Enzo winced. Errand boy. He was going to be sent as an errand boy. Why did he never get trusted with anything more?

"I still don't think it's a good idea." Ferino leaned forward. "If he _is_ her kid, he might have her luck. And you know stuff happens around people like that." A sideways glance at Enzo. Something they weren't telling him about the person he was supposed to contact? Typical. He fidgeted with his cap. "I should go. He asked for a Ferino, and I was her contact."

A shake of his head. "This could be an attempt to put a hit on you. Send the kid. We'll see if he puts up with it. We need to be able to work with the guy. _Things,"_ they didn't specify what kind of things, "are going down. There are more and more of them around, and it's bad for business. Somebody the Chicago bosses sent got killed in an alleyway last week, you heard about it. If _they_ are going after armed men, we've got a problem."

"I know, I know." A nod.

There wasn't any reason for him not to go, unless there was something they weren't telling him. It was just his dad being overprotective again. Ever since his brother had been taken out and his uncle sent upstate, his dad had lost his guts.

The don clearly agreed. "You're sheltering the boy too much. Has he even killed anybody yet? Soft, Ferino. He won't do anybody any good soft."

His dad grimaced. "Fine. Enzo, go to my bar and wait there for a white-haired guy in red. Don't let him know you're the contact, buy him a few rounds and sound him out."

"Don't tell him?"

"If he's her kid, he'll figure it out. We'll see how he takes it before we meet with him. I don't want somebody with a bad attitude coming up here armed, and _they're_ always armed. Wish I knew how they hide weapons. And if this is the same boy, even if he did come in not packing he'd just take something of one of my guards like _that._ They're all faster than lightening, and he was even as a pipsqueak."

"Who's they?" Enzo wondered.

"Never mind."

"People who deal with… _special_ problems. Like people disappearing or properties being taken away," the don interjected.

"Why should he know?"

"Because if he does well, we'll make him the contact. It's a Ferino's job, after all, and your boy should be safer than a safe 'round one of _them." _

"A handyman, you mean?" Enzo asked, brushing nonexistent lint off his jacket.

"Yeah. A handyman of the Underworld." Both of the adults laughed. "Now get going. He should show up in about an hour, unless he's early."

"Yes, sir." Enzo nodded.

Finally! All he had to do was make nice with a guy? White haired, though. He didn't get along well with old people. Well, he was only sixteen.

He sat down at the bar of the Love Planet and looked at the selection on the shelves behind the bar, cursing his father for actually forcing him to _pay_ for things here. His allowance only covered basic partying. Once he got a real position…

Couldn't get drunk. Had to make a good impression.

A couple of the girls sashayed over. "Hiiii, Enzo." One of them sat in his lap. "Buy a girl a drink?"

A good thing about being short was that his eyes were at a great height. "Sure!"

He was watching the two girls on the runway and adding another couple hundred to his tab when the doors slammed open.

This was the person he was supposed to contact? Who the hell walked around with a huge-ass sword and didn't get stopped by the cops?

Had to be a heavy hitter. But that long? He only looked a couple years older than Enzo.

Enzo was immediately abandoned. He could see why. The guy was built, and looked totally badass in that red leather coat, black turtleneck and khakis. Enzo wished he looked that good. Maybe when his acne cleared up.

"Hey!" He raised his bottle, voice only slightly slurred. One good thing, he could hold his alcohol. "Come over here and have a drink! I'm buying rounds."

The whitey slung himself down on a bar stool. So graceful it looked like he was fucking dancing, like he was the one who owned the place. "Bloody Mary, and heavy on the tomato juice," he informed the bartender before turning back to a girl in a black feathered boa. "So, where's the boss?"

She pouted. "Why would you want to see an old man when you could spend time with me?"

He slapped her on the ass lightly. She squealed, delighted. Enzo got slapped in the face when he tried something like that. Who was this guy, James Bond? "I've got business."

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." She tried to sit on his lap.

He quickly drew a gun, spinning it around. "Sorry, babe, but the only chicks I handle are the ones with the iron balls." He winked. Why was there a picture of the head of a blonde on the handle of the gun? They looked like custom jobs too. Very expensive.

She pouted again. "Well, if you ever change your mind," her hand ran up his chest.

He laughed, holstering the gun behind his back in a quick motion and grabbing her hand. "I don't think you like it that rough."

"Try me," she purred.

Enzo was turning almost green with envy. "Hey, your drink's here."

"Thanks." He turned away from the girl and tossed it down. "Bartender! Gimme another Bloody Mary, and I said heavy on the tomato juice."

"Coming right up."

"What are you doing here?" Enzo asked as the girls dispersed except for two who sat on the stools to either side of them.

"I'm here to see the boss."

"Why?"

"None of your freaking business, shorty."

"Hey, my name's Enzo."

"None of your freaking business, Enzo."

"Tell me?" The woman behind Dante said brightly.

"It's definitely none of your fucking business." He winked.

She sighed. "Too bad."

"The boss is a very busy man. Maybe you should talk to me instead." Enzo tried to look important.

For the first time since he'd walked in the door the teenager, no, man looked closely at him. Enzo knew those eyes. Hard eyes. Hitmen had eyes like those. Scary as hell. Was he a hitman? "What if I said I don't want to be fobbed off on some kid barely out of diapers?"

"Hey!" Enzo protested. "I know this town, I have contacts?"

"Contacts? Sure." The man laughed. "Only thing you're in contact with is that bottle you're holding."

Enzo put it down.

"Your Bloody Mary."

He tossed it down again. "Got anything to eat while I'm waiting?"

"I could get something," Enzo offered. Had to make himself useful. He didn't want to blow this, even if the guy was a jackass.

"Aren't there any nuts here?"

"I know where there are some tasty nuts," one of the girls said brightly.

"The bunny costume is just disturbing. Who comes here?" He pat her on the head. "Hop off, furry." A bill appeared in his hand and was tucked behind one of her ears.

The bartender slid a dish full of mixed nuts over to him. "Thanks." He tossed them down as well. "Keep the drinks coming." He slid a twenty over.

"I'm paying," Enzo insisted.

"I don't take charity." Hard eyes again.

He probably didn't need it. That was serious hardware, and those clothes must have cost a bundle. Who dressed like that, anyway? Weren't hitmen supposed to be inconspicuous? Enzo had a leather jacket, but that was a whole leather trenchcoat. Fire engine red. What the hell?

There was definitely something up with this guy. "Look, the boss told me I was supposed to, you know, show you around. Help you get settled in and get jobs."

"I got that, Mr. Pushy." Another Bloody Mary was downed. "And I'm saying I want to talk to… what's that buzzing?"

Enzo blinked. "What buzzing?" He didn't hear anything.

The guy, he still hadn't given his name, stood up. "Hey, bartender. Show me your basement."

"Basement?" Enzo stood as well. What did that have to do with anything.

The bartender nodded, like he had been expecting this. "Right this way."

The girls pouted as he left, Enzo following. They were led to a door. "We've had… problems. There's an old smuggling tunnel from Prohibition connected to this place, and something moved in." The bartender opened the door only to reveal something that looked to the door to a bank vault, only slightly rusted. "I was told someone would come by to handle the problem today."

The guy nodded like he'd been expecting this. Enzo was totally at sea now. Alligators in the sewers? He'd thought the 'they' and 'them' his father and the don had kept tossing around referred to people like this guy, whoever he was. "I'm getting paid for this, right?"

"Five thousand. And there are a lot of other odd jobs here in New York for someone of your profession. It's been a while since there's been a competent handyman here, and these things pile up. At least, that was what I was told to say." The bartender looked nervous. Enzo had seen this guy use the shotgun mounted on the wall before. He was never nervous.

"So the Planet's been invaded?" The guy laughed, pulling out a gun and holding it at his side, playing with it idly. "What else is new." He headed for the door, pointing the gun at it. "Hurry up and open it. I'm not getting paid by the hour here."

"Yes." The bartender hurriedly complied, after handing Dante a bunch of bills held together by a rubber band.

Enzo could vaguely hear buzzing now, soft and intermittent. How had this guy heard it over the music at the bar?

"Clear out now, I work alone." The guy started down the stairs.

Enzo waited a bit and followed. What the hell was going on?

The buzzing got louder. Suddenly, shots rang out. Enzo could hear the guy counting. "One, two…" Sometimes there was more than one shot per count, but Enzo could tell the difference between a shot hitting flesh and one hitting the wall. There was a weird crack each time, but… "Thirty-seven…"

At least he wasn't flashbacking. He drew his own gun and moved closer.

The buzzing was getting quieter. He was shooting bugs? What the hell? Something really weird was going on.

He followed the guy through racks of old bottles that had clearly once held moonshine. There. He bent down. There was a bit of what looked like… a carapace? And bug guts. Must be a damn big beetle. Wouldn't poison or something be better than hiring a guy with guns and a freaking sword?

There was light up ahead.

A sewer drain let bright light from a streetlight pour down among sparkling bottles that reflected it all over the large cave.

What. The. Hell.

The guy was standing there in the middle of the room, laughing quietly at some private joke while all around him were huge bugs, blue and green. Sometimes they tried to vomit what looked like larvae on him, but he quickly rolled to the side and sprung up again.

Guns pointing every which way, shot after shot without reloading. No pausing. What the hell?

And those bugs: he knew enough about animals to know they were two damn big to fly. He'd heard that all those monster movies with huge insects couldn't possibly work because any bug that big would collapse under its own weight. Square-cube law or something.

"Bugs?" He said. "You're shooting bugs?"

One flew over to him and he shot it.

Normally he froze when he was in danger, memories of that night playing over in his head. But this wasn't real danger, he wasn't about to get killed. This made no sense, it was all just a fantasy.

No, it was real. These weren't robot fakes or anything, his dad wouldn't fall for a con job.

The bug was blown away before it could reach him.

Maybe it was because it wasn't human it wasn't scary. Faceted eyes weren't the same as cold eyes. Killer's eyes, ones that thought everyone but them was trash and were didn't even care to take it out.

"What the fuck! Get the hell out of here, shorty!" The guy finished up the last of the bugs and walked quickly over to Enzo. "I said nobody following me! What if you'd gotten killed!"

"You were great! You killed those things like they were grain in a threshing machine!" Enzo grinned.

The guy blinked. "You're not… you're not freaking out?"

"Over a bunch of rejects from a B-movie? No." Enzo put his gun away. "I've been around."

"You're either really brave or really stupid," the guy informed him, sizing him up again.

"Hey, I'm not stupid!"

"Yeah. Right. Look, I said I wanted to talk to Ferino. He's going to be my contact, he was one of my mom's contacts."

"I'm a Ferino. That must have been my old man. But I'm a lot better than my old man! I can find you lots of jobs!" His mom?

"Like what?" The guy folded his arms.

"Like there's this guy who's trying to nose into the cocaine racket, and there's a price on his head of one million." He didn't let on that made him uneasy. That was life.

The guy rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look, in case you didn't get the hint, I'll spell it out. I only take 'special' jobs, you get me?"

"You're an exterminator?" He didn't know about any other big insects, but surely his dad would pass on jobs to him, or once he knew what to listen for… he did have contacts, people were pretty loose-lipped when they partied.

"Exterminator? Sure." One side of his mouth curled upwards. "Now." His eyes turned hard and his white gun appeared, pointed at Enzo's neck.

Oh. Hell no. Not… He started to shake. Bugs were fine, but he didn't want to… He was such a wimp. His eyes closed, he didn't want to see but the body falling to the ground and the killer coming over to where he cowered played over in his head.

And the gun pressed against his forehead was gone. "Seen somebody killed?" The voice was a little less hard. Sympathetic, a little. Enzo took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"You're a nutcase, you know that?" The guy was smiling. "You shoot down a demon from the darkest pits of hell just like that but you freak when a guy pulls a gun at you."

Enzo looked away. Demon?

Well, they weren't natural.

"Humans are worse than animals. Humans choose to kill, treat people's lives like trash." Enzo shrugged. "I don't care, though. Whatever. Just have fun, that's my motto. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die and all that shit." His brother had had plans.

The guy laughed. "That's my motto too."

Enzo smiled weakly. "Want to go back up there and get drunk?"

"Sure."

"If I'm your agent, I get a cut. Ten percent of five thousand's enough for a lot of rounds." Enzo rubbed his hands together.

"Okay then, 'agent.'" The guy laughed. "Then the first thing you do is find me someplace to set up shop. And I don't mean some motel, I need my own place. I don't want people getting in trouble if company calls, get the idea?"

"That, I can do. It'll be a snap." Enzo looked around. "Do you think any of this booze is still good?"

He shook his head. "That's what they were after. Damn things go after alcohol like flies to honey." He pointed with a gun at a pile of shattered glass. "There was the last of it, and they would have come after that place's stash next. Lovely Planet, right?"

"Love Planet. It's back from the Sixties, first owner was a hippie. Believed in saving the earth and all that. My dad bought it."

"Your dad? Do I get a discount then?"

Enzo frowned. "_I_ don't even get a discount. Some dad."

"Fathers." He said it like it was a curse word.

"If we're partners, what's you name, anyway?"

"Dante. Partners, huh?"

"Yeah, partners. Let's get out of this dump." Enzo headed for the stairs, Dante didn't follow. Enzo turned around and called back. "You're going to miss the party!"

"I have to make sure there aren't any more of the blasted things down here. You go have fun." He was tossed the billfold.

"Will do!"

Dante came back up soon after, downing more Bloody Maries and sending one of the girls for a whole ton of pizzas. They managed to get him drunk enough he played around on the pole, though he didn't take anything off, much to the girls' disappointment. Enzo reached his limit around four but he woke up to see Dante dancing with the bunny girl.

The bartender handed him the bill. Enzo didn't look at it, he just handed over the wad of cash, grateful this was a place where his pocked wasn't likely to be picked.

The change was… twenty-six dollars and sixty-six cents?

"You _spent_ my _cut!_" Dante picked him up by his collar and shook him.

"It's a one-time expense! Just clearing out my tab! I swear I'll pay you back!"

"I don't fucking believe this!" Shake.

"Look, I'll make it up to you! I talked to a guy at the party, he says he knows a guy who has a place! We can go by today and move you right in!"

He was put down. "Already? Maybe I will keep you on. _If _it comes through."

"I told you, I've got contacts! I can set you up with anything you need. Girls, booze, guns…"

"Tomato juice."

"What?"

"You're doing my grocery shopping." Dante pushed him out of the Love Planet. "Here's the list." It was scribbled on a napkin from the bar.

"Grocery shopping? But I'm broke!"

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it? This'll be a start for you paying me back for blowing _my money._" A poke in his gut. "I'm going to run some of that fat off of you, partner. I'm staying here. You're coming back this evening and telling me my new pad is all set up. Capiche?"

Enzo gulped and nodded. Dante grinned, showing way too many teeth, and turned away.

"Hey, bartender! Send for more pizzas and gimme another Bloody Mary! Put it on my new buddy Enzo's tab!"

Enzo opened his mouth to object.

Dante looked at him lazily. "Why are you still here?"

Enzo got.

Grocery shopping involved a fridge to put the groceries in. He had to hit up his dad for a loan, but if he also furnished the place that would impress him, right? And another friend seriously needed to raise money and was selling a pool table and jukebox cheap.

He seriously needed to make up for blowing the money, otherwise he was dead. "Hey Dante! I've got everything set up!" He waved him from the entrance of the Love Planet. "Come on!"

Enzo had already called a cab, even though it was only a few blocks away. This was a bad neighborhood, there were lots of semi-abandoned buildings.

Looking at the private investigator-style desk, chair, phone, and everything set up, Dante grinned and slung an arm around Enzo's shoulder. "This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship."

"And he's giving you a deal on it! Really great price, but only because you're a friend of mine."

"And you'd better find me jobs to pay for it, otherwise I'm going to take my money out of your hide." A gun spun in his hand, but that was just Dante.

"Let's go get my stuff and then we can have some fun."

An hour and a half later the jukebox started up, vodka and tomato juice poured and a bunch of Enzo's friends dropped by. Dante was the life of the party, even though there was something dead in the back of those eyes.

Enzo didn't ask. Things like that, if people didn't mention them right off they didn't want to talk about them. Although Dante being a master at dealing with weird shit begged the question. He'd killed those bugs like he was born to do it, like it was the only thing he lived for.

What was wrong with living to have fun? Enjoying life, enjoying the world and the booze and women it contained?

He already had a job lined up for the next night, and around 8 the next morning he was woken up, slumped on the couch, by a phone call.

"Yeah, we hit it off just fine. No problems at all, I even helped him out a bit."

"You?"

"Yeah, me." Enzo grinned even though his dad couldn't see. "You wouldn't believe it. I've never heard of anyone who could shoot like he can."

"I've met someone." Noncommittal. "We'll see how you do. And you'd better return the money you told my secretary I told her to give you."

Enzo looked sheepish. "Sure! I'm his agent, I'll be rolling in cash soon. Just you watch. Bye, dad."

He looked out the window and grinned. He knew what he was doing now. Where would he end up?

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As always, reviews are love. Even a sentence makes the writer happy.

Because after all, if you don't tell me what you like, I don't know to write it. So it's in your own best interests. cracks knuckles


	10. Lady: Mater Dei

Disclaimer: Is my name Dante? Do I own Capcom as well? I don't own Devil May Cry.

This was written before DMC4 came out. So if she's in there and this gets rendered AU, is not my fault. Next up is Nevan. Ilove Nevan.

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Lady's eyes darted around like those of a veteran, scanning her surroundings for demons while she kept track of where she placed her feet on the cracked concrete. "Do you see any more?" She called up to Dante, who had leapt up to the top of the tallest of the surviving buildings in the demolished area. 

"Over there!" He pointed, grinning. She couldn't make out his expression at this distance, but she knew he was grinning. It was in his voice, and it was something he would do for sure.

He really did enjoy killing demons. Killing his own kind. Lady understood.

There was really satisfaction in it. In risking your life to save the lives of others. To beat them, to know you were the best. Only she wasn't the best.

She was good enough. She had killed her father, hadn't she? She tried to smile as she half ran, half jumped in the direction he had pointed. He had already leapt down, she could hear gunfire. How many had they killed? At least a couple hundred.

It was a good thing all the people had left.

She had felt it, what made them leave. The feeling that something was wrong, the deer scenting the wolf. She had played hot and cold with that feeling, following her instincts, until she found it, what was causing that fear.

She shot once, killing the last of this clump. "You should have left more for me."

"Sorry, Lady." He grinned at her, and really, he was cute enough to get away with anything. When she'd seen him about a year ago she had thought he was hot but scary. He had guns. Guns hadn't been part of her world then.

Now, the weight of Kalina Ann on her back was a comfort to her. She'd felt naked walking up the tower without it. Her best offense and her best defense. She'd given her to him.

He'd paid in full. "You'd better be sorry." She tried to act like her old self. "You destroyed my motorcycle, and my hotel is twenty miles away."

He grinned again, excited. "You can stay at my place," he offered.

Her smile froze. Stay with a devil? But he had just saved her. Saved the world. And… he was nice. He understood. About family and killing and things. "Is your place still where it was a year ago?" She glanced around. "It was in this area?"

He blinked. "You know where the old place was? Maybe you were the girl in that photo…"

"Photo?"

"Never mind. No, it's a different place. The old one got trashed. Come on." He waved off towards the east, judging by the sun.

She followed, still nimble enough to clamber over wreckage despite the night's work and Kalina Ann. Her teacher had said she had the most endurance of anyone he'd ever seen. That would be useful. Even if all the ones here were dead.

She couldn't let what had happened to her mother ever happen again. She had to kill them all.

But… now that the object of her obsession was dead… avengers should dig two graves. She would get killed eventually. Should she just… try to have a normal life? Try not to get consumed by hate?

"We're here! My brand new home sweet home."

"It's a pile of rubble." She couldn't sleep over in that. "Now, if you hadn't wrecked my bike, you could have rode behind me to my nice comfortable hotel room."

"Oh, you, me, and a hotel room." He grinned again.

"In your dreams." Sleep with a demon? But it was just his way. Take things lightly, little jokes. He'd survived that way. "What are you doing?" His big broadsword had disappeared and he was unfolding what looked like a spiky scythe.

He dug it in behind a sheet of concrete and started to pull. "Trying to clear the wreckage. It's just the façade that slipped. Old building. The back rooms where all my stuff is should be fine."

"You can't…" But he could. The slabs of concrete moved. She wanted to offer to help, but she wasn't strong enough even though he made it look so easy.

"There, you see? Welcome. Mi casa es su casa." His hands were propped on his hips, elbows out with a proprietary air.

"What?" Never mind. She walked forward, looking carefully at the walls. The rest of it seemed pretty solid. This was obviously an old building like he had said. There was a door at the back of what had been the front room. Dante was pulling away the wreckage of a desk, looking for something. A framed photograph?

"There you are." He examined it. "The glass cracked. I'll have to buy another frame," he muttered to himself.

"What are you looking at?" She walked up behind him.

For an instant it seemed as though he was shielding the picture from her, then he tentatively held it out. "My mother. Try not to cut your hand on the glass, okay?"

"Your mother?" She examined the picture. A blonde woman in a red shawl over a black dress. She was smirking in a way that seemed a lot like Dante. "I can see the resemblance."

That seemed to be the right thing to say. Dante smiled, pleased.

"Is she still alive?" What would she think of her son opening a gate to the demon world?

Dante's face closed off. "She died when I was eight. There was a demon attack, she held them off and we escaped." The amulet around his neck caught the morning light.

"I'm sorry." She knew what it was to lose a mother. She hadn't wanted to remind him.

"It's okay." He shrugged. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm ravenous. I haven't eaten anything in… about eighteen hours now," she guessed.

"I'll go look in the fridge." He headed towards the door to the back rooms.

Lady looked at the photograph. That was right, if they were Sparda's sons of course they must have had a mother. Somehow she hadn't thought of that.

Dante returned with two bottles. "Tomato juice?" He held one out to her.

"Sure." She hadn't had it before, but she could use something to drink, and it should be nutritious. Funny, she'd pictured him having only beer.

It was good.

"Sit down?" He brushed off the chair, which had miraculously survived.

"Thanks."

"I'll make sandwiches. I have roast beef, turkey, pickles, tomatoes… pretty much anything you can put on a sandwich."

"Just toss something together, I'm in no position to be picky." He nodded and went back through the door.

Lady leaned Kalina Ann against the chair and sat down. The photo on the desk caught her eye. The desk's surface was bare except for it and a bloody glove. Had Dante been carrying the glove? To see if it could be repaired? There was a big gash.

His hand must have been cut through to make a gash like that.

But then, he'd survived bullets through the head.

She looked around the room. There were the remains of a pool table. That fit her image of Dante. Having a mother like a normal person didn't.

What had she thought? That he'd sprung fully formed from Sparda's head like Athena? She snorted with laughter.

"What's so funny?" He had come back through the door with two huge sandwiches.

"Oh, nothing." She took hers and dug in. They ate in companionable silence while she tried to observe him without seeming to.

He looked so normal. Well, as normal as anyone in a red leather trenchcoat with two 45s and a massive sword on the ground next to him could look. Would an ordinary human even be able to lift that thing? It was solid metal, and Kalina was supposed to be about at the upper limit. For a woman.

He was handsome. Devilishly handsome. She understood the saying now. He wasn't looking at her. He was gulping down the sandwich, and after a minute stood up again. "Where are you going?" Lady asked.

"To make myself another sandwich. Are you going to want one?"

She looked at the massive concoction and shook her head. "Could I have another bottle of tomato juice?"

"Yeah, just a minute." Back through the door.

He made a pretty good host. If someone had repeatedly shot _her_, she'd be pissed off about it. Maybe he was used to it. He was a demon. She knew there were other people like her that hunted demons.

She hadn't gone to any of them. Her father. Her business.

His brother.

He came back and handed her the bottle. "Thank you. What was her name?"

"Eva."

"Was she…"

"Human? Yeah." So he was only part demon. That would explain why he seemed so human.

"Was she…" A witch or something? She tried to imagine someone who would sleep with a devil. Maybe she'd just cared about the legend.

"She was cool. She's the one who raised us. Dad died when we were about two. I only have a couple… well, not really memories. I could just have imagined them from Mom's stories."

"Stories?"

"She said he was a hero who fought for the weak. That he really loved us, and her." Dante shrugged. It seemed like a sore subject. "He died, though."

"And demons killed her?"

"He left her alone to die. Look, I don't want to talk about him, all right? Can we leave the subject of families alone? I think we've both had enough of that for now, Miss Nosy." He wasn't glaring. He just looked tired.

She looked away. "Sorry. Dante." He had a name.

"It's okay." He shrugged. "Just been a long night."

"I know." She'd just killed her father. What had happened to Vergil? Had Dante had to kill him?

Dante had been crying soon after he had come back from the tower. "I was trying to make conversation," she said.

He laughed. "Talking to me is an improvement, Lady."

"Lady. I like that name." It was her name now. She wasn't Mary anymore. She hadn't been Mary for a year. Mary had died a long time ago.

So. Now she was Lady. So who was Lady?

A demon hunter.

"It's a better name than Dante. I'm named after a poet who wrote a totally inaccurate book about hell." He snorted. "If I had to pick a name… I don't know."

"Let's see… Cliff?" Something macho.

He shrugged. "I'm used to it. It's my name. Changing it won't do anything."

He would still be Dante. He would still be a demon. Half demon.

She would still be haunted by the ghost of Mary no matter what she did.

Sobering thoughts.

"My father named me."

He looked at her again. "So what are you planning to do now?" He was clearly trying to change the subject.

"You know, I have no idea." Lady laughed. "I was a normal girl, school, clothes, friends, money and everything. A little princess. And then _he_ used my mother as a human sacrifice. I think everyone probably thinks I'm dead by now."

"I hid for years so they'd think I was dead." He grimaced. "So what are you going to do now? He's dead, right? You don't have to kill anymore."

"I'm going to keep hunting demons?"

"Why? It's not your problem anymore. Your family's out of it. Except for you."

"I can't stop. Not now I know demons are out there. And humans who are even worse than demons. People like _him. _I can't let anything like this happen to anyone ever again. This time several city blocks got destroyed." She pointed to the view out the front of the ruined building. "What will happen next time unless someone stops it?"

"I'll stop it." There was that promise again.

"I know, it's not a human's job. It's Sparda's job. And you're his son. He's dead. It's humanity's problem, though. We should defend ourselves." She shrugged. "Sorry to bring him up."

"It's okay." He laughed. "Family. It's like everything revolves around it. At least you don't have a evil twin."

"Don't? He's alive?"

"I have no idea. He fell into hell. I have no idea what the hell he was on. If Mundus finds him, he's screwed." Dante made a cutting motion across his throat. "Or any of Mundus' supporters. They hate Sparda. He's a traitor to them. I've had bunches come after me on earth. Going to their homes and knocking on their doors is just insane."

"He's strong like you, right?"

"Yeah, but anyone gets tired eventually, and we were both on our last legs." He shook his head. "I hope he's dead, frankly. Hell's famous for torture."

"That's terrible."

"He just fell in. Cut my hand when I reached after him. He's always done that since he found me again. I reach out, he cuts my head off. I just don't understand him anymore. Didn't. Didn't understand him anymore. And I have no idea. And I'm going to keep _thinking _about it. Not knowing if he's dead or alive… son of a bitch." Dante drank the tomato juice in one shot. "Want anything else?"

She shook her head no. "I don't even think I can finish this one."

"Your stomach's upset?"

"I'll survive. It's just…" She shrugged.

"You had a rough time last night. At least it's over, right? Vergil and I beat him."

"And I finished him off." She smiled at that. "He actually had the gall to ask me to help him. He basically said that killing Mother was nothing."

"Bastard. I found the body on the way down, with the head blown open. I kicked it off the top of the tower."

"You did?" She was surprised to find she had mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was dead. Dead should mean it was over and done with. She didn't want to think about him anymore. The new her felt differently. "I wish I'd thought of that." She smiled.

Dante laughed. "Bastard had it coming. Wanting to be a devil? That's just sick. He looked like an ugly version of Dad at first, and then he turned into this blob. Totally gross."

"He looked like Sparda?"

Dante pointed to his broadsword. "It's called devil triggering. People who are part demon and part human can do it. You get a catalyst, usually a devil arm, and you can turn into a demon that looks sort of like the demon the devil arm used to be. It varies."

"So he turned into Sparda?"

"Yeah, but ugly. Mom showed us photos."

"Do you have any?" She was curious. The great Sparda.

Dante shook his head.

"Can you do that? And you mean your sword used to be a demon?" She looked at it cross-eyed.

"Yeah. I don't like to. I used to do it only when I had to, but I was using it a lot on the tower. I just decided, the hell with it. I can't stop being what I am, so I might as well take advantage of it." He shrugged. "And yeah, I inherited Rebellion from Dad. He's like an old family retainer."

"It talks?"

"Only when I ask him to. Which is about never." He shrugged. "It's distracting. I got a couple today that don't know when to shut up, though."

"You got more?"

"Sure. Remember the flail thing I used to tangle you up? That was Cerberus. He was in the room you crashed into on the bike before you got there. I used Nevan to get the rubble out of the way. She's a guitar if you fold her up. Freaking coolest thing _ever_. Beowulf wanted a piece of me because of Dad. Vergil finished him off, actually, and then ditched him. I grabbed the gauntlets. And Agni and Rudra, who are twin swords. Talkative twin swords." He rolled his eyes.

"None of the ones I fought turned into weapons." She looked carefully at Rebellion, as though it might pounce on her. Get a grip, it hasn't killed Dante yet.

"Well, that was because you were fighting weak ones. He must have been telling the truth about trying to keep you alive, because there's no way you would have made it there without getting hit with _one_ scythe otherwise." He shook his head. "I get impaled a lot. It's a hazard of the profession."

"I managed fine. And I can't heal like you."

"Well, I had help." He reached in a pocket and started taking out glowing blue jewels. "They're Blue Orbs. They store Green Orbs, which will heal you. Red Orbs you can trade for stuff with the God of Time. You saw those statues of lions with hourglasses, right? They're sacred, they won't fuck with them or with you while you're using them." Rubies spilled on the ground. "You can get things with healing energy like Vital Stars," a glowing star, "these things called Holy Waters that do a ton of damage to whatever they land on," a bottle surrounded by twisted iron, "and Gold or Yellow Orbs. They bring you back to life."

"You mean… resurrect the dead? Why didn't you bring your mother back then?" She could… get one of those things and get her mother back.

Dante shook his head. "Doesn't work that way. They have to be on you when you die. If you drop them or run out and you die, no one can come back later and bring you back to life. If you're dead for more than a second then you're dead-dead."

"Oh."

"It's magic, but it's not like magic. You get the idea." He shrugged. "Universe isn't fair, what else is new."

"You're right." She nodded and looked at her tomato juice. "I'm going to keep hunting demons. You'll just have to show me how to use those things. And how you never run out of ammunition. Kalina Ann does that, it was made specially, but nothing else does."

"Custom-built works best, like these babies." His black and white 45s spun in his hands, "but you can enchant 'em if you find them in the field."

She nodded. "If you show me, I'll call it even."

"I'm sorry about the bike. It was incredibly kickass." He sighed and shook his head in mourning. "_Got_ to get me one of those."

"I can tell you where I got it made. It was really expensive, though."

He sighed. "And I'm broke again. I spent most of what I had to buy this place." He gestured expansively. "A hunter needs a home base. With heavy wards. It's either that or never sleep. I only need a couple hours a day, but I'm not normal."

No. He wasn't. "You're a lucky bastard. Stronger, faster, faster healing."

"Let's not forget smarter." He grinned.

She looked disgusted with the universe. "That's just unfair."

"Dad was a genius even for devils. Cannon fodder are stupid about everything but fighting, but they're demon _animals_. Most of them can think at least as well as a human, even if they've got weird inhuman logic. Vergil and me? Mom made us study like crazy to keep us from tearing down the house. Haven't touched a book since if I could help it, but I speak an ungodly number of languages. Because, you know, it sucks if there's some ancient inscription telling you how to kick the ass of the tentacle god and you can't read it."

"You suck. I studied French for four years and I've already forgotten all of it."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Nyah nyah."

She stuck out her tongue at him too. Then they both cracked up.

After a few seconds Dante held a hand up for silence. "Hear that? Someone's coming."

Lady listened. A motorcycle? They were right on the edge of the debris here. Sure enough, it stopped at the edge and she could hear someone carefully walking through the rubble. "Dante!" A voice called out. "You here?"

"Enzo?" Dante yelled. "I'm in my shop!"

"Well you'd better clear out!" A young Italian man poked his head around the edge of the front side. "The cops are about to declare the emergency over and let reporters in here. Captain O'Neill tipped me off so I could come tell you."

"Shit." Dante stood up. "What's the cover-up going to be?"

"Some sort of explosion? The tower was a pillar of smoke? Leaking gas caused people to leave? Didn't stay around for the details. Get moving!"

"Ten minutes." Dante grabbed the photograph and the glove, stuffed them in his pockets. "I can't leave my gear here!" He ducked through the door.

"You'd better make it five!" Enzo called after him. He looked at Lady. "Hello. Who are you? Another handyman? Handyperson?"

"What?"

"Do you kill things?" He winked on the word things.

"Yeah."

He nodded. "The payoff on this one's going to be big. I wish I was still Dante's agent, I could use a cut of that." He whistled.

"Enzo!" Dante came back through the door. "Can you put up houseguests for a couple days?"

"Sure, you're an old friend. What about her?"

"Lady here's taking lessons from me. So you're going to drive her to get her stuff from the hotel and haul it back to your place."

"Here I come through all this shit to save your neck and you order me around."

"You could use the exercise. Come on, Lady."

"All right." She picked up Kalina Ann and joined Dante.

So her adventure was over. Her father was freed and her mother could be at peace.

Looking at Dante's smile and smiling herself, she wondered if she was. Maybe.


	11. Nevan: Bold Marquees

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.

The title is from a song by Cake, Sheep go to Heaven.

"Bold marquees with stupid band names," etc. It's a good song, but not necessary to understand the fic. Except as a metaphor for Dante's big sign.

According to the DMC1 Sound DVD (which I command you to buy!), Dante's office in DMC1 is in a city called Metropolis. There is a lot of evidence the city in DMC3 was based on New York.

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"A little to the left." Dante stepped back another foot and peered up at it.

"Fine, sugar." Nevan hovered in midair, supported by her bats and adjusted the sign. "Better?"

"Looks okay. The silhouette is still a little crooked." Nevan used her powers to weld the sign to the wall weakly, in case she would have to move it again later, and moved to adjust the shape of the gun slinging woman.

"I think you've got it." Dante nodded, arms folded in satisfaction. "Come on down and take a look."

Nevan's bats flew her down next to Dante. "Move over, sugar, so I can look at it from the middle." He complied. She examined it thoughtfully. "The e doesn't look right."

"It looks fine, Nevan. It's a great sign." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Worth every penny."

"The artist gave us a discount, sugar, since I provided the materials. He was gaga over them, it's impossible to find real red neon now, it's all that red-orange stuff." That looked like fresh, human blood. Not appropriate for Dante. "I should have tried to bargain him down farther on the neon, getting it made custom was expensive."

"Nevan, expensive is expensive. It's only money. Replacing the white sign is worth it. It's perfect to celebrate the new shop." He squeezed her shoulder.

She pouted a little. "You deserve the best, sugar. And moving here to Metropolis from New York? You haven't got as good contacts here. You might be short on jobs, and spending this much." She shook her head. "I should have asked you first."

Dante rolled his eyes. "It's a great surprise. You're a great factor, Nevan. Anybody with the brains to steal speakers, and damn good speakers, about an hour after they were unsealed rocks. Great taste."

"I know, sugar." Nevan preened. No false modesty here. "Still, sugar, I worry. You're a kid, you need looking after. And doing a good job is my ticket out of lying around all day as a weapon."

Dante looked at her, disgusted. "I'm not a kid."

Nevan looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "For a devil, _two hundred_ human years is still infancy. Mundus was about early twenties when started taking over, and he was five thousand. Sparda was fresh out of college when he entered Mundus' service, and he was about four thousand, if I'm a good judge, which I am. Twenty? And saving the world? It's unbelievable."

Dante shrugged. "I'm a human, and twenty is adult for us."

"You're also a devil. You have demon powers that shouldn't be as advanced as they are." She shook her head, serious. _"Doppelganger? Quicksilver?_ At _nineteen?_ It's unbelievable. And even for a human you're advanced."

"Mom was hunting demons when she was twenty."

"Sure, sugar, but she wasn't hunting _me._" Red-yellow eyes were admiring. "Cerberus? Agni and Rudra, even if they are teenagers too, me, Beowulf, Doppelganger, that mutated horse? Fucking incredible." She whistled.

"Yeah, I know. So don't call me a kid. I hate that."

"You should be a kid. You're not." Bats fluttered around her. "And even if I am a demon, that's still a little sad."

"What? Like it would be better to be weak? You demons hate weakness." He shook his head. "You're right. I would have liked to stay a kid a while longer. Everything went to hell when Mom was killed and Vergil disappeared. Killed by demons." A hand touched Ebony, reassuring himself she was there. A gesture of ingrained habit.

"I know. And you're wonderful to still let me help you out instead of dissolving us in holy water. But it strikes a little close to home." She didn't want to talk about it. But Dante was her master now. A kind one. Telling him this would make him kinder. Give her special status.

She could use that. She needed to have that. What would happen when her bats grew older? They would start to mature into Bloodgoyles like the ones in the tower. The next hatching was already close. In around fifty years, Dante would be deciding their fates.

Dante blinked. "Close to home?"

"Ever wonder why I was serving Mundus?"

"To be honest, not really. I thought it was because he was the Emperor, which was why Dad served him." She was a demon.

"Agni and Rudra entered his service because that meant they would be in a lot of fights and have a chance to find a worthy wielder. They're swords by nature, that's what they want. Beowulf was defeated by Mundus and gave him his oath. Me? You're not the only one with a sob story, sugar. My parents were gods."

"Gods?" Dante knew devils had been worshipped, but he hadn't thought of Nevan in terms of that.

"You think Sparda was the only devil who fought for humankind? There's been interaction between the light world and the underworld since the light world appeared. So there have been some devils who got curious. Played with humans, helped them out. A lot of them did it because they liked you. After Mundus took power, he needed a big project, a big war, to justify keeping up the armies that kept people from rebelling. Something to show off his might. So he went after you guys. My parents objected to this." She shrugged. "There were others too… but you can guess the result."

"He killed them?"

"Made an example of them. Hades and Hecate, you've heard of them."

"Didn't Hades marry Persephone?"

"She was another of my father's wives, yes." Weak home wrecker. She had been glad when Father had eaten her.

"Hades and Hecate weren't good guys, the legends say."

She shrugged. "They were devils, sugar. But just because they were a little rough didn't mean they wanted humans to be _farmed _for their agony."

"Farmed?"

"You know demons feed on suffering? Think of cows, sugar. Kept in stalls, killed and eaten, the only care taken that they produce the most milk. Only here, the milk of human suffering." She liked her lips. "It's hard to keep humans happy, and why would Mundus want despicable weak creatures to be happy? Suffering is easier to produce. And with enough food, Mundus' armies would be able to breed quickly, not to mention the prestige of having conquered both worlds. No one would have dared challenge him."

Dante looked sick. "Hell on earth."

"Exactly, sugar. And so there we were, the two of us, my brother Alastor and I, with several tens of thousands of younger siblings to support." She pet one of her bats. "And no one would help us. No one wanted to anger Mundus."

"He did that and you still worked for him."

"You're acting like I had a choice, Dante. I didn't have one. Alastor didn't either."

"Alastor? As in the spirit of vengeance? One of Mundus' top assassins?"

"You've heard of him? I wasn't able to get any information. He left before me. The only thing I could find out after swearing my oath was that he was in the light world, so I came here. But they kept us apart in case we became disloyal." She laughed. "Such a fool, Mundus."

"All of you except Beowulf seemed eager to stab him in the back. You all want to serve me."

Her orange eyes glowed. "It's called vengeance, sugar. I stayed in my quarters while Sparda was fighting his way up the tower. I fought you because I thought you were the one who had unsealed the tower and was trying to break Sparda's seal on the portal."

"You had to serve the bastard who killed your parents."

"And I'm female. Devils aren't big on woman's lib, sugar. It's called the oldest profession for a reason." Playing him like a guitar. That it was all true made it better, no lie he could catch her in.

"I though devils were androgynous."

"We aren't male or female. We do have genders, and I'm the one that's weaker, and therefore lesser. You're the stronger one, so was Sparda."

His eyes were alarmed. "Good to know."

"You're strong and handsome to both species, sugar." She winked, her usual self, then sobered. "I wouldn't want to be your brother now."

"He's dead." Dante said firmly.

She was pushing it, she could piss him off and then she could be put in storage and her bats, her siblings, all killed before they could become a threat. "He's a youngling too. He wouldn't have been strong enough to make his opponent kill instead of capture. Mundus would have killed anyone who gave him a quick death. If your brother's been defeated."

"Vergil would never serve Mundus!" She could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

"No, he's human. He wouldn't be bound to obey. But Mundus would want to show his mastery. Would want to use him as a servant." She spat acid. "If you see him again, you will be fighting what's left of him."

"I'll free him or kill him."

"I know you will."

Dante took control. "Thank you for warning me." She could taste it now, that bone-deep grief.

"It's better you know now and can mourn now than on the battlefield, sugar. This is war. I don't mind you killing my siblings with me."

She'd succeeded in shocking Dante. This was rare. "What!"

One of her bats landed in her hand and she held it out. "The bloodgoyles. They're only infants now, they were created as cannon fodder not future devils. Still. They're my responsibility, and Mundus took them."

"I was…" He looked sick.

"It's war, Dante. He killed your family. I serve you now, and they," she pointed to the bats, "do too. But the ones Mundus has will be trying to kill you, and you will have to kill them. It's the same for both of us. Our families destroyed or slaves."

He was clearly wondering if she was lying, but demons didn't lie. They tricked, though. If someone was stupid and weak enough to fall for it, they deserved to suffer.

"So that's why you have my loyalty. And why if someone defeats me and gains my service, I will turn traitor and kill them to return to you. If Sparda can do it, so can I." Her eyes blazed. "And why I'm going to look after you. I'm thousands of years older than you, but we're the same age."

She'd seduced men, human and devil, before, and killed them. She'd learned fast, it was learn or be killed.

Now, though…

This wasn't a job. He wasn't another john who wanted to use her and throw her away. She wouldn't let him throw her away.

She'd wanted Sparda to take her with him. She'd wanted to leave all that behind. With a powerful devil like him protecting them, her family would have been safe. She would have been respectable again.

Dante would hate her if he knew she was thinking of him instead of his father.

After all, the boy had urges. He'd been celibate so long, fearing he would kill the next human women he slept with as he grew stronger, deadlier, with no one to teach him how to hold back.

The boy was perfect. Strong, intelligent. He'd defeated her. He was so sweet.

He would be a Dark Knight already if he had grown up in the Underworld.

How… human of her, to want a knight in shining armor. No, black body armor.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's not a good incentive to trust you, saying you're capable of turning traitor. And you're a succubus. A damn good one. If any demon can tell a lie like that, it's you."

She put her hands on her hips. "I know, sugar. We both know I'm taking a risk saying this. I'm using my past as coin to buy your favor."

"You already had it. You talk to people for me so I don't have to, playing politics and making nice. You do things like this for me." He pointed to the sign. "You arrange this whole move so all I have to do is ride here on my motorcycle when I decide one day to come out here so Lady can have the New York business."

She looked at the sign. "Devil May Cry. Don't you think you're giving away too much with that name?" She smiled and touched his face. "You're sweet, sugar. I like that. But sweet implies edible. Mundus is going to take advantage. You care too much."

He grimaced.

"I mean, you even turned me down." She posed.

He looked, he was male, he couldn't help it. "I didn't want to be seduced by a demon. If you get defeated, you're on the other side again. Or you could turn traitor."

"You didn't want to just use me because you were the Master. You have every right to, you know." She circled him seductively. "I won't mind. I want you, sugar. You're every demoness' dream."

He half-smiled. "I know I'm every girl's dream." He took her hand that was tracing his muscles through the armor and she stilled. "What if I don't like the idea of a demon feeding on me? Because that's what you would be doing. You've drained men dry. I'm not going to be your next conquest."

"So sweet, you would be tasty." She licked her lips. "Divine. I'm _so_ jealous of Lady. What a fool. She can't possibly be straight, turning you down like that."

Dante looked like his brain had just broken.

"I want you, sugar. And you want me. You put your hands all over me when you play me, you hang on every word when I sing in our jam sessions." She laughed like she had in the tower. "I've still got it."

"Well, you're not getting any. Sorry, babe."

She sighed hugely. "Such a pity. Still, you'll be nice to me. Won't you?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her.

"You're such a gentleman, even though I'm no lady." She laughed again.

"I'm no gentleman." He snorted.

"I'll have to disagree with you on that." She touched his chest over his heart on the word that. Then she pointed up at the sign. "I just had to have it in red. Red's your color. War and courage. It's so you, sugar."

"It took me a while to pick it." He grimaced. "Maybe it's a little too—"

She interrupted him. "No! It's perfect. When you've killed Mundus and the world is saved, when you've freed your brother and everything's settled, you could use it as the name for your band."

"Band?" He looked at her like she was crazy.

"Isn't that what you've always wanted, sugar? To be up there on the stage, worshipped by adoring fans instead of having to hide in the shadows? Don't you love making music instead of just destroying foes, getting lost in it and only having to think about making it perfect? Surrounded by beauty. And beautiful women." She winked at him again. "When it's all over and you've only got part-time work, I'll be your lead singer, sugar."

He was silent for a moment, looking up at the sign. "Yeah. When I was a kid that was what I wanted to be when I grew up. Stupid, huh? Even if Dad hadn't gotten himself killed and we'd been safe, if there'd been no need to fight, I couldn't have risked it. Stars attract attention, and when you've got a secret to hide like what I am? Way too dangerous." He shook his head. "You're right. I love it, and I'd like to dedicate my life to it. But fighting's what I live for now."

"Revenge."

"Not just that. Protecting people."

"Not wanting anyone else to suffer like you did."

"Right." He turned around and looked at her again. Sizing her up like he had when they'd first met at the tower. That same smile. "Thanks for the sign. Thanks for everything, Nevan."

"Show me how thankful you are?"

"Oh, you still want to be paid for it?"

"I'm worth it." She tossed her hair.

"What do you want?" A little caution.

"You've been practicing with all the other weapons recently. I'm a demon, and I want to kill things." A predatory grin.

"Have there been any calls?"

"Tons, sugar. There hasn't been a good handyman here for a _long_ time, and they're jumping for joy that they've got the best now."

"Where is it?"

"There's a map on the desk."

"You think of everything." He held out his hand and she reverted to the Devil Arm. He slung her across his back.

She could still feel his warmth in this state, and her strings thrummed with anticipation.

He pushed through the new doors, grabbed the map which was sitting on his desk right where she had left it, then headed for his motorcycle.

The ride was boring, although he enjoyed it, racing some people at a stoplight. No contest.

Finally, they were there. Dante tucked her into her coat (she did look rather freaky) in case anyone was waiting to brief him, and walked through the iron gates. One of them was unhinged. Typical infested mansion: some of them wanted big houses for nests but wanted them more isolated than your usual office building.

It was a stupid idea because rich people had money to pay for exterminations, but she supposed it was better this way. More secret, and hunters were called in quickly. Still, the stupidity of the lesser demon races disgusted her. They barely thought.

But then, their equivalents in the world of light didn't think at all.

No one was here to greet him, so he pulled her out and put her on his back.

Dante kicked in the badly battered front door. "Lucy! I'm home!" Nevan laughed, causing her strings to play a few notes. She knew that would make Dante smile. He liked having his lines appreciated.

He always catered to an audience. So cute. He was still just a kid, no matter how much he tried to deny it. "Come out come out wherever you are!"

Something spun through the air, Dante leaping out of the way as it shot past him. They both heard it coming back, so he began to play her. Bats and electricity surrounded him to protect him.

They heard mechanical-sounding laughter and something started to walk into the area illuminated by the light thrown off by Nevan's arcs of electricity. It was a doll.

"A Barbie doll? You're possessing a Barbie doll?" Dante laughed. "Well, dollface, it's time for me to play with you!" He strummed a chord and the doll was blasted away.

Two more came forward, one of Barbie's friends and a Ken. Dante unfolded Nevan into a scythe and slashed away, pushing forward into the house.

A doll horse? Nevan had looked into Barbie dolls a while ago after someone had told her admiringly she had a better figure than they did (she did) but she didn't remember all the different kinds.

Their faces were distorted, with fangs, and few Barbies were seven feet tall. They laughed mockingly, the tone not even changing when they were about to be destroyed.

They wore the remains of a wide variety of clothing, hanging in tatters even before it was sliced to ribbons by Dante.

She was surprised, and felt a little flattered. He wasn't using Ebony and Ivory as much as he usually did, focusing almost entirely on her.

She must have really touched him. Inwardly, she smirked as she blasted one of them apart. Dante then immediately jumped up, jumping off the ceiling and bringing her blade crashing down on one of them, letting out a whoop.

He loved showing off. He got to do it too rarely. Besides Lady, he had to restrain himself at least somewhat among humans. Had to restrict himself to moves that at least looked as though they were humanly possible.

One of them tried to tie him up in clothing, wrapping it around him but, "Sorry, I'm too old to play dress-up!" Slash!

That would have made her smile wryly if she'd had a mouth to smile with.

He was so, so hot, here in his element, and he knew it too. If this were the Underworld, and Mundus had never existed, they would be fawning all over him.

Of course, if Mundus had never existed Sparda would never have come to earth and Dante would never have been born.

If Mundus had never existed, perhaps she might have met Sparda at a hunt, a few centuries ago, and perhaps he might have been looking for a mate to maintain his family's honor, and she would have been eligible…

She wasn't, now. If Sparda were alive he would tell Dante not to look at her. Succubi were beyond the pale, for mating with in secret but never for mates.

Sparda wasn't here. She was, and that was a horrible thing to be glad of.

Dante was running through the house now, her sticking to his back, looking for any others that were guarding rooms and hadn't come to the big fight on the first floor.

There! Two more!

He saw them, and she was glad she'd stayed silent. It wouldn't be good to annoy him by talking and distracting him. He spun her around, hitting them up to the ceiling then hitting them again as they fell, almost bouncing them until they fell apart.

"Now, if playing with dolls was more like this, I would have done it as a kid!"

When he was sure he'd gotten all of them, he checked his watch. "Over seventeen minutes. Damn, but it was a big house."

"True, sugar," Nevan made her strings sound.

"Still. That was pitiful. How much did I get paid for this?"

"Ten thousand, sugar."

"Only 588 a minute. Damn." He shook his head. "Let's head home. Got to unpack."

"I'll help."

"Sure." He slung himself onto the bike and roared off.

He stopped a ways in front of the shop to look at the sign. "Devil May Cry."

Nevan took human (or humanish) form. "That's what it says."

"You're right, that would be a cool name for a band." He grinned at her.

She grinned back.


	12. Detective Daniels OC: Worth His Hire

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. I have, however, owned one hell of a lot of 'finis, msira and puia.

After a hiatus, Sin is back. Please review, even if you don't have anything really constructive to say. Author craves feedback. It's like a drug. Also am nervous about the OC.

Detective Daniels also shows up in one of the Centuries drabbles. The 11th set. According to the DMC1 Sound DVD, Dante's office in 1 is in Metropolis. This is an attempt at an outside POV. He's a little bit of a flat character… I wanted to keep it Dante centric. He's an OC. I'm sorry.

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Worth His Hire

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"Look, this really isn't a good idea." Daniels stuck his hands in his pockets as they got out of the nice warm squad car. It was chilly out. "I told you back at the station, he hates people coming to visit in person. Let's go back, we can call him."

"With the password?" The FBI representative snorted.

Daniels had only known the guy two hours and he already hated his guts. He was the archetypal FBI jerk, the kind who stole cases local PD departments had already slaved away for hours on to advance their careers.

"He's a mercenary, Detective Daniels. The US government does not normally deal with mercenaries, much less jump through hoops for them. He should be thankful we're using him all. Why the higher-ups refuse to create a proper in-house team to deal with those… things is beyond me." Inspector Christensen kept walking while he talked, not even turning around to face Daniels.

Uptight jerk.

"He's also a foreign national. You don't have any hold on him," Daniels warned. Really. This was like watching a train wreck. Christensen was going to end up totaled. Daniels knew he shouldn't be looking forward to it. Not should he be prepared to give a blow-by-blow to the guys at the station later.

"No hold on him? Visas can expire, Daniels. Still, I don't think I'll have any difficulty even if the Metropolis Police Department has needed to cave in dealing with him."

"Not cave. He's really easy to work with. You just have to respect the ground rules." Daniels felt obligated to defend Dante, even though the guy could defend himself. He'd saved enough officers even though he'd only been her six months that he was practically one of the guys. Although Dante would laugh at the idea. "It's like working with anybody. You have to be polite."

Christensen snorted as he burst through the double doors.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" It was the sexy secretary.

"This is Inspector Christensen of the FBI. He wanted to see Dante." Daniels smiled politely and wanted to be waving a sign saying 'it was his idiot idea to come here without advance calling, not mine.' "Ms. Nevan, right?"

"Just Nevan." She smiled and turned to Christensen.

Which meant she wasn't looking at his eyes so he could let them wander. Damn. He'd seen her only a few times, usually coming to the station to pick up Dante's money or dragging Dante home from a bar that one time he'd condescended to drink with them.

Damn, she was hot. And that little beret just topped it off.

And oh yeah, there were weird skulls on the walls.

Christensen was fumbling in his pocket instead of looking at her. Idiot. Was his pocket glowing? Had he left one of those keychain flashlights on?

"I'm afraid Dante's out, sirs. May I take a message?" She was practically purring. Damn.

Maybe he should thank Idiot Christensen for this.

Christensen got the thing out of his pocket. It was a little cross. Glowing red. "You're one of them." His left hand went for his coat, where there was a gun really inexpertly concealed. "An extra-dimensional being."

"Is that the new PC term for demon?" she laughed, placing her hands on her hips..

Daniels blinked. Okay. Now that he thought about it, that figure was too good to be true.

Christensen visibly attempted to recover himself. "When will he be back?"

"I'd give him five minutes." She was visibly amused, studying them.

"We'll wait." Christensen stood against the wall.

"Sorry about the intrusion," Daniels apologized and got a dirty look from Christensen. Why was he apologizing to something inhuman?

Well, she was a person, wasn't she? She certainly wasn't one of the killing machine ones. Although he'd known the first time he saw her she was really dangerous. Had to be, to survive around Dante. It seemed a little weird, though. He killed demons and he was letting this one live?

Master? What else did she do for him?

Lucky bastard.

She sat on the desk, legs crossed. She was still looking at them and smiling. A beautiful woman smiling at him should not be this creepy. "What do you need to talk to him about, Daniels?"

"I'm just the escort." None of this was his fault! "It's the Inspector here who has the job."

She turned to him and waited.

"I'm here to speak to Dante." Not to the likes of her.

She shrugged then looked past them to the doors.

Which swung open, Dante walking through. He hung his sword on the girlie poster on the wall (and why did he have a girlie poster when he had this dish?) and gracefully sat down on his desk chair, boots on the table, before acknowledging their presence. "This had better be good. Are you worried some sorcerer tapped your phones?" A white eyebrow rose. Guy made everything look good.

"The United States government requests your assistance." Requests, requires, it was clear there was no difference from Christensen's tone. "We need the extra-dimensional beings that have infested a building removed tonight."

"Sure. Five million."

"What?" Christensen seemed taken aback.

"Five million dollars." He said it slowly and clearly as though explaining it to a baby, a slight smile on his lips.

"That's over our budget." Christensen shook his head. "I'm prepared to offer three thousand."

"Then the property values around that building are going to go way down." Still amused, his hands folded behind his head, totally at ease.

"I'm afraid you don't understand. We have reason to believe the building in question is being used as a drug production facility by the Ferino family. We were about to move in when they did. I'm told they were attracted by the chemicals in the air. Given your connections to the family, if you don't assist us I will be forced to arrest you for conspiracy and obstruction of justice."

Well now. "You could try."

Daniels stared. He knew Dante had underworld connections, he got half his jobs from informants. That was how Daniels had learned he had moved into the area, from his informants.

That was how he had known who to call the night that 'firefight' had eaten two SWAT teams.

"Look, Christensen," he started to say.

"That's Inspector Christensen."

"It's demons. The government will cover it, not your budget. Just pay the guy. He's worth it." The last thing they needed was Dante going on strike. The number of disappearances had gone down by 90 after he moved into the area. It was coming up on Halloween, too.

"I've made my final offer. Charges will not be made, charges which would end with you either serving a prison term or being evicted from the country, if you kill those demons." Christensen stood with his arms folded. This was his final offer.

"Look, guy. You're a desk jockey. You should know about budgets. Bullets? Cost money. Building repairs? Cost money. Food? Costs money. Gas? Costs money. I have a sliding scale because orphans don't usually have money. Hell, I work pro bono more than I like to admit. But I do not work for the government for free. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, isn't that your motto? So you can damn well foot the bill for keeping your citizens from being enslaved by beings who will feed on their pain and suffering."

Nevan had pushed herself off the desk and headed for the side door while Dante was talking.

"Then I will have to place you under arrest." Christensen straightened up.

Nevan turned around and hissed. Daniels shrunk back even though the glare wasn't directed at him. Damn.

"Stand down, Nevan." Dante waved it off. "And then what? You think the Swiss or Vie du Marlian governments will stand for that?"

"They're called human rights." Christensen dangled the chain the cross-shaped item was on. It kept swinging towards either Dante or Nevan, Dante more than her. "You could just disappear."

Daniels' eyes widened. That thing was obviously some sort of detector. Dante? Well… now he thought about it…

He was just like Nevan. Perfect. Too perfect. He never got anything but bulls-eyes at darts, he had drunk half his friends under the table, he moved like… better than a dancer.

Still. Making someone disappear. It went against everything they were supposed to stand for. "Christensen."

He was ignored. "You're only tolerated because we need you. We won't need you forever."

Daniels stared. "You can't be serious. Just agree to pay him the money. He always takes care of it, he's being reasonable." This was getting more and more wrong.

"Quiet, Daniels. If you keep interrupting you can go back to the car. This is my jurisdiction now."

"You seriously think you can hold me?" Dante laughed. "You must have sampled some of those drugs you were after. No one will back you up."

"Oh, there are people who think the United States government has let the security of our own country rest in the hands of rogue mercenaries long enough. Especially inhuman ones."

Political appointee? Damn. What was he in the middle of here?

That last one seemed to affect Dante when he'd ignored all the other barbs. "My mother was as human as you. More human. Isn't it against your own regulations to be racist?"

"Racist? That applies to humans. And treason is a crime."

" 'Race' means species." Dumbass. His eyes narrowed. You did not go after people's mothers. That was just crossing the line. More so. If he were Dante he would be taking down that sword. "My mother saved more Americans than you ever will." Bastard.

This was bad and getting worse. Very, very bad. "Christensen, you crossed the line miles back. Sorry, Dante."

A flick of his eyes indicated Dante didn't hold him responsible. "You're an idiot. And you're bluffing," Dante was smiling slightly. Daniels hoped this ended with him taking the job. There were reporters at the site. Much longer and they would start to wonder what was going on. There were a few reporters who were in on it, but all it took was one run of bad luck and people would know nightmares were real.

"I am not bluffing!" He took out his handcuffs and dangled them at his side. Phew. Bluffing.

There was a bang and then a clink. Daniels jerked in reflex and saw the spinning gun in Dante's hand. He glanced over at Christensen. The chain connecting the handcuffs had been shot through.

"Let me make you a deal. I go kill the demons. You go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and never darken my doorstep again. My payment is ten million and _not_ ten million and your badge."

"_Ten_ million!" Christensen squawked.

Daniels stared. "You mean all of this has been to get out of signing off on a payment to look good? You fucking idiot! This time tomorrow, everyone's going to think you're too stupid to live!"

"Eleven million." Daniels could see the predator in Dante's eyes, hear it in his voice. But it was a full predator, satisfied. He'd won. He was just having fun now. Phew.

"But you said five million."

"Twelve million." The gun twirled, the pointed between his eyes. Christensen flinched.

"Yes," he gasped out.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you. Thirteen million. And make it, Yes sir."

"Yessir." He gulped.

"That's better. Now, Daniels. Where to?"

Daniels ignored Christensen. "Not too far from here. I'll go in the squad car, you follow in the motorbike?"

The gun disappeared, replaced with a pair of keys that Dante idly tossed and caught. "Sounds good." He took the sword down from the poster and stalked toward the door, Daniels opened it for him and Christensen followed meekly.

Dante took shotgun. The ride was silent, none of the usual banter. Daniels could tell Dante was inwardly seething. The guy was what, twenty-one? At that age, Daniels would have had the guy's head.

Dante was a killer, sure, but he'd seen killers. Dante was a good guy. So… "Talbot wants to challenge you to pool again."

"Bring it." Dante had only lost three games. Now, Daniels wondered if he had lost on purpose.

They pulled up next to the police barricades. "What's going on?" Daniels asked a rookie.

"There's been no gunfire since this morning when the FBI team went in. They have to still be in there. But the heat sensing equipment isn't picking up anything moving, just the chemical vats."

Daniels clapped him on the back and turned around to see Dante jump over the barrier. The rookie heard him land and turned around. "Mister, get out of there! There are desperate criminals in that building!" He started after him.

Daniels grabbed his arm. When the rookie turned to him, surprised, he shook his head. "He can handle it."

"Is he the consultant Barclay was talking about?"

Daniels made a note to talk to Barclay. Loose lips. "Yeah. So radio everyone to sit tight." The shooting started.

Christensen was getting out of the car. "Don't even think about giving any orders." Giving orders to the snooty FBI desk jockey. Nice. "Tell your guys to hold back."

He gulped. "My team was already pulled out by headquarters," he admitted.

Daniels stared. "You mean… damn, you're stupid. In other words, you're completely off this case?"

"Except for being liaison with the Hunter, yes."

"What were you talking about, he's," Daniels licked his lips to moisten them and glance around. No one was in range to hear him if he talked quietly. Not whispering, whispers carried. And no one would be able to hear over the hail of bullets, and that just now had not been a human scream. "Half-human?"

"I wasn't told much. I was given some equipment when the local office verified it was demons, a detector and this," he took out a strange bottle of what looked like water. "It's some sort of grenade."

"Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch." Holy water? He turned back to the building.

Damn. Daniels wasn't a shrink, but damn.

He killed demons, and he was half one? He wasn't sure, but judging from what Dante said his mother had been one too. Sure, part of it was probably that he liked killing and didn't like innocent people dying.

But damn. People with one parent who was black and one white had it hard enough as it was. He wasn't the department shrink, but he'd seen…

Dante seemed to keep it together pretty well. He wasn't consumed with hate or likely to lose it, not if he kept one around as a secretary instead of killing her. Although it would be criminal to kill that piece of ass. Real men didn't pay for it (especially if Vice had anything to say about it) but he'd pay for that.

He wondered if people had paid with their souls. A little sugar made all sorts of negotiations easier. He had to have some reason to trust her, right?

The reporters were being kept busy at the other side. Dante knew to come back out this way so he wouldn't be caught on camera.

There was a scream. Daniels spun around, reaching for his gun. It was the rookie. Something had just ripped his arm off. Some thing. Sort of like a human, but snake scales all over and a tail instead of legs. The arm was thrown away and the thing slithered toward the others.

Daniels fired into it but was soon out of ammo. "Shoot it, for God's sake shoot it!" he screamed to the others who were just staring. The rookie was pressing his other palm against the stump of his arm. He must be in shock, that was too rational to explain otherwise in this sort of situation.

He found himself counting the bullets as it slithered toward them. How had it gotten outside the cordoned-off area? He wondered this vaguely as he slowly backed away.

It healed instantly, the bullets pushed out of the skin as it did so. It almost looked like they were bouncing off: he had thought for a horrible few seconds that they _were_ bouncing off.

One of them had dropped his gun, one was shooting, the others were fumbling. Somehow he knew if he tried to run the thing would be on him in a second. It was watching, smiling, like it knew exactly how frightened he was even though he was sure nothing was showing on his face. Damn. Yellow slit eyes and a forked tongue.

An instant later it was split down the middle, as Dante fell from the sky sword slicing down. It disintegrated, turning to a white liquid.

Daniels let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thanks, man. It almost had us." If it had just moved instead of approaching slowly so they knew how helpless they were it would have killed them all, he realized.

"You weakened it. About fifteen more shots would have done it." He shrugged.

"I owe you another." The other cops agreed.

Dante smiled. "I'm getting paid for this." Then he looked over to the rookie and frowned. "We'd better get you to a hospital."

"Yes," he gasped out, "I think that's a good idea." Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

Dante picked him up easily. "Can you lay him flat in the back of the squad car?" Daniels asked. He picked up the arm. "I wish I had some ice." Maybe it would be possible to reattach it?

No matter what, though, Murphy would make sure he wouldn't be able to shoot well enough even if the arm was saved. That mean he would have to leave the force.

Dante took out a weird thing with rods and chains and stuck the arm between the three rods. "This should do it."

"Can you," Daniels said quietly, "do anything?" He tied off the stump to choke off the blood flow.

Dante hesitated. "Let's see if they can reattach it first. The less of that stuff gets in his system, the better."

"Huh?"

"It's healing energy, but it's tainted by demonic energy. Makes you see the world they way they do. Everything's might is right. It's okay to eat people if you're hungry, that kind of thing."

To go from cop to someone like that. No. "I don't think he'd want that." Did Dante see the world like that? Later.

He got in the car and turned on the siren to get to the hospital. Dante slung himself into the front seat. "You don't have to come."

"If I'd done my job better and killed it before it teleported away he'd still be whole," Dante bit out.

"Why didn't it keep running?"

"The cannon fodder are about as smart as a five-year-old. A homicidal five-year-old. It wanted to kill you guys and use your energy to recover its own so it could kill me. Wouldn't have worked, but whatever." He shrugged, working hard to seem badass and callous.

He was just a kid, wasn't he. He'd never seen him like this before. He just… ran in, saved the day. He wasn't one of the guys, but they took him out to celebrate after jobs. He knew the score.

How many people had he seen die? A lot in his line of work.

And he still cared about a green kid and his arm.

That 'kid' was about Dante's age, Daniels realized. Damn.

There was something following them in the air. "Uh, Dante, not to imply anything, but did you miss one?" Dante looked out the window and muttered something under his breath.

"Can you pull over?"

They needed to get the kid to the hospital but, "Sure." They were over at the side of the road in three seconds.

The black cloud descended. Nevan. Wearing only bats. Damn. "There's been another call, sugar. Sounds serious."

"Fuck." Dante looked at the kid.

"Go. He'll understand." Daniels nodded.

Dante grabbed Nevan (Daniels' libido went 'Lucky bastard' and he cursed himself for thinking something like that under the circumstances.) and the black cloud took off. They didn't seem to be in it, just bats. Were those bats?

Couldn't vampires turn into clouds of bats? He wondered about it as he took off again, tires screeching.

He was a detective, he was curious, he wanted the full story out of Dante later. It was probably a long one. He knew he shouldn't, and wouldn't, ask though. It wasn't his business why Dante did what he did. Just that he did it well and the people he had sworn an oath to protect didn't die. He didn't want to make Dante refuse to talk about it. He would probably laugh it off, make a joke about it. Some things were too serious to take seriously.

Daniels didn't talk about the time his partner had been shot down next to him during the riot, and he didn't dare leave cover. Demons were… demons. There were some that weren't, like Nevan and of course Sparda in the legend, if that was real. That thing had been like a cat. Doing what it was. Humans chose to be criminals despite everything telling them not to. Humans worked at it.

Dante was a good guy. He worked at being a good guy. He was a goddamn hero. He didn't deserve what Christensen had tried to pull. Had to find some way to make it up to him.

The best way would be good news about the rookie.

He thought that Dante would find that a better reward for this day's work than however many million it had been.


	13. Cerberus: Ice Ice Baby

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. I have two dogs, but they have only one head each. _

_I've decided Beowulf got his eyes back and Cerberus got his other two heads, because there are green orbs and now that they serve him, Dante wants them in top condition. _

-

"Cerberus!" he heard Dante call. "Cerberus, here boy!" Dante whistled and Cerberus pushed himself to his feet and came trotting out of the doghouse into the converted warehouse. "Over here," Dante said, smiling when he saw him and patting the couch. "Come and sit up here."

"As you wish." Cerberus complied, springing up on the couch and sitting.

Dante got onto the couch and leaned against him. "Damn heat wave."

"Heat wave?" Dante was wearing only shorts, his back pressed up against Cerberus.

"Heat wave," Dante confirmed. "Do you feel it?"

"It is hot." That was why Cerberus had been lying in the shade instead of patrolling the complex, as was his duty.

"Everything must feel hot to you, your body temperature is so low. Nevan, over here with those!" The succubus had walked in carrying several bottles of the red liquid Dante liked. Not blood, it was called tomato juice. It was similar to the stuff that was on pizza. "Cerberus, move over a little so Nevan can tuck those on your other side, okay?" Cerberus complied and Nevan placed them against him, handing one bottle to Dante. "Thanks." He took a long drink. "Want any, Cerberus?"

He shook his heads. "I would like water, however." The heat had been evaporating the ice that formed on his limbs. Most of it was condensation but it had been pulling his own body's water with it.

"Sure, you big pup." Nevan scratched under his ears and sashayed out to the backyard. She was also wearing very little and her bats were flying around her, flapping their wings to fan her. Cerberus heard the sound of the hose after a while.

Dante tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and reached over Cerberus for another. "Thanks, buddy."

"You are welcome." Cerberus had learned that was the polite response. Dante was a strange master, to ask instead of demand. He was his master, he had Cerberus' loyalty. He was a good master, however. Mundus had barely acknowledged Cerberus' existence, left them all trapped in the tower for two thousand years, although Mundus himself had been trapped.

If he was that weak he did not deserve Cerberus' service. But he had stayed, done his duty. He was a good dog. Until Dante had defeated him.

Dante already had his blessing, he did not need to earn it anew.

Nevan came back in, her bats carrying several buckets of water. Dante sat up. "Go and get yourself a drink."

Cerberus jumped down off of the couch and stuck his heads in all three buckets, Nevan having placed them so that was possible. Dante scraped off the frost that had started to form where his body touched Cerberus. "Is the freezer really broken?"

"I'm afraid so, sugar. It started smoking so I unplugged it."

Dante muttered something under his breath. "Of all the times to break. We're not going to be able to get a good new one for love nor money."

"Not that we've got a lot of money, sugar. You just bought bullets and paid the bill for your new motorcycle, remember?"

He grimaced. "Are you okay up there Rudra?"

"This is very exciting, but I miss my brother," Rudra's voice came from the ceiling. Cerberus glanced up to see Rudra had been tied to the fan and was whirling around. That was why it was so windy in here.

Dante shook his head. "Sorry, he's exiled to the roof until the heat wave's over." He reached for a bottle of tomato juice. They had slid all over the couch when Cerberus moved. He bit off the top, spit it into the recycling, and took another swig. "And we just bought a whole ton of meat, too. We can't eat it all before it spoils."

"If cold is needed, I could breathe on it," Cerberus offered.

Dante whapped himself on the forehead. "Man, I feel like an idiot. The heat must be really getting to me. How hot is it anyway? No, don't tell me." He sighed. "I never should have moved south. Having a high body temperature is great up north, but here?"

Nevan walked over and felt his forehead. "You'll survive, sugar."

Cerberus finished drinking and padded back over. Dante scooped the bottles out of the way so he could get up on the couch again. This time he lay down. Dante lay on top of him and positioned the bottles again.

"What does it say on TV?"

One of Nevan's bats flew the remote over to Dante. He turned the TV on. "Commercials, commercials, soap opera, I have no clue, local news." It was a robbery. A bungled robbery, the store owner had shot the thief. Another sin-laden soul headed for the Underworld. "They're going to put the guy on trial for defending himself? What the hell?"

"I'm sure he'll be acquitted, sugar." Nevan shrugged, sitting in an armchair. The bats that had been fanning her, tired, perched on it and others took their places.

"That's not the point. Gun control…" Dante laughed. "Defenseless people are just begging to be attacked."

"Fresh meat," Nevan agreed.

"Babes in the woods. All of them." Dante yawned. "Oh, that reminds me. Eb, Ive?" His guns took human form.

Cerberus had been surprised the human-made weapons had been enchanted by Dante to take female form. Human women were rarely warriors. But there were pictures of human females on the handles of each gun, and Ebony and Ivory took their faces from those pictures.

"Yes, daddy?"

"Bring me, Nevan, and Cerberus some ice cream, and ask Beowulf if he would like any. Then you can eat the rest yourselves."

They nodded and headed for the kitchen.

The news went to commercial. Dante clearly was feeling too lethargic to change the station.

Ebony and Ivory came back. "Here you go, daddy." Dante took the spoon and poked at his ice cream. "Yeah, it's pretty melted. Better go freeze it again. Come on, Cerberus." He sat up and headed for the kitchen. Cerberus followed.

Dante pulled open the door of the huge freezer. "Do your thing."

Cerberus roared and the entire thing was full of ice. Ice stuck out into the room. Dante futilely tried to close the door. "Nuts. It'll melt faster if I can't shut it."

"Forgive me, master." Cerberus bowed his heads.

"It's okay, I'll just keep an eye on the clock and check every so often to see if it's melted enough I can close the door." Dante shrugged and headed back to the living room, leaving Ebony and Ivory with the remains of a gallon of ice cream.

Once again, Dante cleared the bottles out of his way and Cerberus lay down on the couch. Dante lay down on his stomach this time but got off again. "Well, that's uncomfortable." Jagged ice had formed over Cerberus' body. "Let's see if we can smooth that down." He reached for Rebellion, which he had left leaning against the couch, and started to shave down the ice. Cerberus held still. "There, that's better."

"The heat wave shows no signs of abating…"

Dante growled and turned off the television, cutting off the announcer's voice. "Hell."

"It's not _that_ hot, Dante." Nevan yawned.

Dante yawned. "Damn it, Nevan, now you've got me doing it too. Sorry. The heat's making me tired and snappy."

"You should just go to sleep." She adjusted herself in the armchair and was clearly preparing to do so. "Beowulf likes this weather, he can watch the phones."

"I just woke up." Dante yawned again. "Damn." He fumbled around and started petting Cerberus.

Cerberus panted happily, his tail thumping on the couch and fanning Dante. Hopefully the additional coolness would make Dante keep petting.

"Good dog," Dante said, a grin in his voice. Then he yawned again. "Rudra, tell me if you get dizzy. I've already got one sword nicknamed Woozy."

"This is very enjoyable," Rudra assured him. "It is a pity Agni cannot enjoy it as well."

"I'll try it out with him in the winter this time instead of sticking him in the old furnace. If you make fans go the other way they're supposed to actually make the room warmer." He laughed. "I'm being a bit of a bastard making you guys do all the stuff instead of just getting some electricians in here and doing it the normal way."

Nevan shook her head. "I don't mind charging up the battery, sugar. We're your weapons, we like to be useful."

"Weapons being the key word there. But I'm only one guy, I can't use you all all the time. And I need to practice with Force Edge a lot, to see if there's any way I can get Sparda's power from it without the other half of the amulet." Dante sighed.

"Something will turn up, sugar. I'm sure he wants you to use it." Nevan hummed and the bats started to fan her harder.

"Nevan, you should just go back down in the cellar and sleep. You're nocturnal, you like it cool anyways. This must be really nasty."

"I'm fine, sugar. You're so sweet to worry about lil' old me, though." She blew him a kiss, which he ignored. Cerberus thought this was very foolish of him. Nevan was a very attractive succubus and Dante had no mate to worry about the disapproval of. If Cerberus was her kind of demon and she wanted to mate with him, he would not pretend to ignore it. Pretending was a human trait. "Everything'll turn out fine. Why, wait a few more decades and you won't need your father's power to beat Mundus. You're growing up into a fine devil."

"She speaks truly," Cerberus growled. "You are already one of the strongest I have ever seen despite your human blood." And he'd mistaken him for a human at first. How wrong he had been.

"I prefer to think of it as _because of_ my human blood." But Dante scratched him behind the ears anyway, first one head then the others. "It's weird. Enzo and Lady are back in New York, Daniels' okay to drink with but I can't really talk to him about stuff… all my best friends are demons who serve me. If you'd told me that a few years ago, back before Temen ni Gru, I would have thought you had all your screws loose." Dante shrugged. "You know what's weird? Why is the heat driving me crazy but I've got ice forming on me and I feel fine?"

"Sparda's form was like an insect, sugar. They like it cool and damp." Nevan hummed again. Several bats flew off after one snagged one of the bottles of tomato juice.

"Oh yeah, that was what the nutjob looked like at first. That explains why all my devil triggers with you guys look like weird bugs. Vergil's too." Dante laughed. "Didn't he take a look in a mirror? He wanted to be a devil and look like that all the bloody time?"

Cerberus remembered Dante using him to create a smooth pane of ice and trying out all of his devil triggers in front of it. He had used Beowulf to shatter the mirror in the end.

"Hmm… you were both handsome devils, sugar," Nevan smiled in remembrance.

The bats came back, carrying two of the glasses for special drinks. One was delivered to Dante, the other to Nevan. "Thanks, Nevan." Dante downed it.

"My pleasure, sugar." She sipped at hers. Other bats flew in with two thin white sheets.

"What are those for?" Dante asked.

"To put between you and Cerberus there. You're getting dog hair all over you."

"Never mind, Nevan, it's soft." Dante snuggled against him. "Mom got me and Vergil puppies when we were kids but we broke their necks playing with them. Wish I'd had you earlier." He pet Cerberus again. "You know, next time we have money I want to get a pool put in. You could swim around in it so it'd always be cool. Sound good?"

Cerberus nodded. "It has been a long time since I swam."

"I'm in the mood to play fetch with you, but it's too bloody hot." Dante yawned. "Damn. I'm bored now."

Cerberus' stomach growled.

"Perfect timing. Let's go check on the freezer."

The ice had melted enough it would now be possible to close the door. Water was all over the floor. Dante examined the ice. "Someone's been chipping away at this. Probably to get ice to cool their drinks. Wait just a sec, Cerberus." He went into the office, Cerberus padding after him.

Dante took down Force Edge from its position covering the picture of the human women and made his way back to the kitchen.

He hacked through the ice, pushing chunks out into the backyard, until he reached a piece of meat. He hacked it out too and took it out of the freezer, closing the walk-in freezer behind him. "I'll stick this in the microwave."

Cerberus' tail was wagging at the faint smell. "No need. I prefer my meat raw and frozen."

"Makes sense, that's probably how it ends up when you kill it." Dante put the meat down on the ground and Cerberus started crunching away.

Dante looked down at his bare chest. "Damn, Nevan was right, I do have dog hair all over me. You're shedding. Well, I guess that's natural when it's hot. He started to brush himself off.

As soon as Cerberus had finished gulping down the meat the phone rang. "I'll get it," Dante called out, and headed for the office. Cerberus followed.

Dante threw himself down in the chair in his usual sprawl. Cerberus sat beside him and got petted. He didn't like this heat, but he was getting a lot of attention and praise from his master, so this was a good day.

Dante kicked and the receiver rose up into the air, landing in Dante's hand. "Devil May Cry," he said into it lazily, his hand moving to another of Cerberus' heads.

Cerberus' keen ears made out a faint noise over Dante's breathing, but he did not bother to listen.

"That was last week's password." Dante yawned. "But you're in luck. I'm bored right now. What and where?"

More faint human speech.

"I'll be there in a second." Dante tossed the phone back in the cradle and got to his feet. He grabbed his coat and was considering putting on a shirt, but "Screw it, it's too hot." So the coat went on by itself and he looked almost as he had when Cerberus had first seen him, only the sword that he bore was Sparda's instead of Rebellion.

He also looked a little older, a little more mature. The one who had defeated him that time had been a pup. An orphaned pup.

"May I go forth with you?" Cerberus requested, bowing his heads.

"Sure. Let me grab the collars." Dante rummaged in his drawers. "No, they're on the roof of your doghouse out back." They tramped through the house out into the gravel backyard. Dante fastened the collars that hid his extra heads around two of Cerberus' necks, a regular collar around his central head, and pocketed the leash.

It was a length of silver chain. Cerberus could break it easily: it was just to reassure timid humans. Cerberus was still a rather large dog.

The first leash had been black leather but Cerberus had been bored one day and chewed through it. He'd liked the taste so much that he had also accounted for a pair of Dante's boots, although he'd known to leave the leather coat alone as tasty as it had looked.

Dante hadn't been too angry, but Cerberus had been very embarrassed later. That was something a mortal dog would do. He might have the form of an animal, but he was still as much a warrior as Beowulf.

He could learn to take human form, but dogs were loyal, as he was, and it was not an objectionable life.

Dante attached the sidecar to his motorcycle. Cerberus jumped in it, and away they went.

His tongues were hanging out. He loved to go fast like this, even though he could run just as fast, as several humans had had the misfortune to find out before he had been ordered to guard the entrance to the tower.

The traffic was bad. Dante cursed under his breath. "Should have just had you run behind me instead of taking the sidecar. We'd be able to weave between the traffic."

"Would a normal dog be capable of matching the speed of your motorcycle?"

"No, but normal people are blind. They'd think you're like a greyhound or something." Dante took off his helmet and shook out his hair. He was speaking very quietly, barely moving his lips. "All these people must be trying to get out of town to beat the heat. Could you do me a favor and breathe on me? I was doing fine with the wind, but now we're stopped I'm sitting on top of hot metal. Should have parked this goddamn thing in the shade."

"As you wish."

Dante was encased in ice. He shook himself loose, and the bike's metal was indeed hot: it melted quickly. "Not quite so hard would have been better."

The man in the car next to them was staring. They ignored him.

"Should have had Nevan take me," Dante muttered. "Lightening demons can travel at light speed… we're at a crawl here."

The traffic eased up after a while, and they were speeding along again. Cerberus' tail wagged. This was more like it.

They pulled up at a lakeside dock. Dante took off his helmet and tossed it in the sidecar. "Wait here while I talk to the guy."

Cerberus nodded, it was not good to speak where a client could hear. A client would believe and wonder why the hunter they hired was consorting with demons. It meant bother for Dante.

Dante went into the shack and came back out after a second, putting a check in a compartment of the sidecar. "Heel, boy."

Cerberus followed him down to the lakeshore where Dante pulled a needlegun out of his coat and laid the coat down on the railing. "We've been hired to take out something that's been wrecking boats. In a lake. Filled with cool water. Somebody up there doesn't hate me." Dante looked very happy. Cerberus wagged his tail.

They waded into the water. Dante splashed Cerberus a few times. He was a man by human reckoning but he was only a child as devils reckoned years. It was good to see him act like a child.

Orphans were not rare in the underworld, but rarely did they survive without a patron. To have become this strong with only his human mother's training, strong enough to defeat Cerberus when he was only a pup… Sparda's bloodline was powerful indeed.

Dante should have been a nestling, kept safe in a deep dark nest.

But he was a warrior now. Still, it was good that he had never lost the ability to play.

Cerberus let go of his dignity and tackled him, tails wagging.

Dante laughed, bubbles rising under the water, and pushed him off with only a fraction of his strength. "Down boy," he said smiling when he got to the surface. "Enough clowning around. Let's get to it." His smile became more predatory, and Cerberus wondered how he had ever mistaken him for a human.

They swam deeper.

Though the gloom of the lake bed Cerberus saw something stirring. He already smelled something.

Huge coils matched the scent. Snake.

Dante saw it too. He stuck his head above water to say, "I should probably head back to my coat and grab some depth charges." It would clearly be more fun to do it the hard way.

They dove down and Dante stabbed it with Force Edge.

The coils started moving. The two of them swam up slightly, waiting.

A head as broad as Dante was tall moved towards them with lightening speed.

Cerberus breathed and its head slammed into the sharp chunks of ice, which sank down and stabbed into the coils. While it was paused Dante headed for its neck and sunk Force Edge in deep.

The snake started to whip around, trying to dislodge Dante, but the sword was stuck deep. Dante was wiggling it from side to side, trying to saw away at the neck. Black-hot blood was filling the water. It scalded Cerberus, whose nose was getting confused by it as well as his eyes. Where was the snake's head?

He wanted to be useful to Dante, but if he dived down to attack the coils they would crush him.

He breathed out chunks of ice as sharp as he could make them and swam around erratically hoping that would make it difficult for the snake to find him and swallow him.

As he fought he felt his demonic energy build up. Finally, it was enough for him to reach his full size.

Now he dived down and worried at the coils.

He wasn't at it long when they turned to salt in his mouth. The snake was dead.

He shrunk back down again and headed for the surface to look for Dante.

Dante was treading water and rubbing at his face which was covered in black goo. "Must have been a baby Midgarsorm. Probably swam up the Mississippi. Damn it, why couldn't this have disappeared with the snake? I need a shower." Cerberus swam over to him. "Good dog. Let's head home, you can have the leftover pizza as a treat."

"Thank you." He loved bread with stuff on it enough he'd let humans bribe him to go past with it a few times when he was younger, when he served Hades instead of Mundus.

This was a very good day.


	14. Beowulf: Moonlight Shadow

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. Wish I owned Dante. Don't. _

-

Beowulf was summoned onto Dante just in time to hear him call out, "Hey! I'm not getting paid by the hour here! Hurry up and attack me so I can kill you all!"

His voice echoed slightly in the dim recesses of the warehouse. Dante tapped his foot a few times, the armor clacking on the cement. Beowulf could guess he was scowling.

Beowulf felt like scowling himself. Weak demon scum. True warriors didn't hide.

The warehouse remained empty. Dante muttered something under his breath and walked over to a drain, crouching before it to look through.

Then he jumped up into the air, foot slamming down and breaking through the thin layer of concrete and the older stonework that underlay it. "Someone didn't pay attention to the building codes."

Beowulf remembered their fight. His mother hadn't taught him to use a door. There were few doors in the Underworld, you usually had to make your own, tearing a way for yourself as Sparda's seed just had.

He was always joking, even if the humor fell flat on Beowulf's ears. A dark knight killed.

His brother had been puzzled, but silent.

They had landed in water. Beowulf was relieved it was clean water, not that he would have complained if it hadn't been. His soul served Dante now, whether he liked it or not.

"They must have buried an old creek." A gauntleted hand tapped on the walls.

Why was he talking? Did he want to alert whatever scum dwelled here that the enemy had arrived?

Of course he did. Dante was no coward, no matter his other faults. And as his summons to battle above had demonstrated, he was impatient. Beowulf remembered being that young and impulsive.

He had to admit ruefully that he'd always been hotheaded. Though two thousand years trapped in a tower with only lesser demons and a succubus (who was the least of all) for company would anger anyone.

He should have given himself more time to recover before trying to find Sparda's seed again. Then perhaps this would all be different.

Sparda's treachery would be undone and Mundus would rule over this wretched world. Beowulf would be honored as the loyal knight who destroyed the Emperor's enemies.

Perhaps he should have stayed, kept attacking even after Dante had destroyed his other eye. He had worn Dante down, he might have won. He'd grown used to being half-blind, had practiced until he was almost as good a fighter with the disability as he had been before Sparda had defeated him in his surprise attack on the tower.

Beowulf had just had to get out of there.

Dante had stilled, listening. "Beowulf, could you turn up the light?"

Beowulf obeyed his master, glowing brighter. "Thanks." Dante muttered, summoning the two guns into his hands and taking aim at a shadow that rippled over the wall. "Doppelganger's relatives?" They were living shadows that oozed into rough shapes.

Dante spun around and kicked one that had tried to leap on his 'unprotected' back. The shadow shattered, scattering red orbs that Dante's spell gathered. "That worked a lot better than it should have. Yeah, I was right. As usual." He hadn't stopped fighting while he talked, punching and kicking, whirling while he blabbered on. Normally he jumped a lot when he fought, Beowulf had noticed, but the tunnel wasn't high enough for it. "Vulnerable to light. No wonder they wouldn't come up in the warehouse. I could have just gone for the light switch, but no, they had to make it difficult." One went flying into the wall. The last one.

Dante looked around and walked over to a mound that lay on the tunnel's side. He prodded it with Beowulf and it rolled over to reveal a half-eaten face. Dante picked up what was left of the human and jumped up through the hole with him.

Dante made his way to the warehouse door and pushed it open. Outside, under a streetlight, two humans were waiting, a male and a female. Not warriors, clearly.

Dante laid the body down on the ground and the man rushed towards it, pushing at it as though he didn't see the state of the corpse.

"He's dead?" The woman asked.

Humans and their need to state the obvious. Though it had been pleasing to hear, "It's the Dark Knight Beowulf! We're all doomed!" Back when he served Mundus, back when he wreaked terror instead of protecting weak things.

Dante nodded. "So are the things that got him."

"That was quick. We haven't been here three minutes." Another statement of the obvious. At least she was doing something while she said this, pushing the grieving man away from the body. Humans were weak creatures. Beowulf remembered besieging cities: they would finally crack them open only to find that plague had killed many of their rightful prey.

Dante shrugged. "I'm the best. I did check, I didn't miss anything. It's safe in there now. Except for the hole in the floor."

"Hole in the floor?" Was the human deaf as well as weak?

Humans had been stronger before. Weak creatures such as these would have been killed by a partblood or some human who had mastered some of a devil's powers. Now?

Foolish humans. You would think that Mundus' invasion would have shown them they needed magic to survive, but no. It had frightened them into throwing it away, most of the knowledge lost. Trusting in Sparda had made them weak.

Sparda had fallen. Beowulf didn't know how, but his spawn had been left unprotected.

Demons were weak now if they couldn't even defeat one human, even a warrior, and two half-breed nestlings, no matter what they inherited.

It seemed like everything had gone downhill since he had been trapped. The portal had been open, and only a few hundred demons were sent through, mainly weak ones that were killed by the twins?

"The things were living in an old buried creek. I had to get down into it."

"Oh."

"What did this? What killed my brother?" The human was trying to control himself, but grief, fear and a futile rage flowed from him.

"It doesn't matter. It's over. And lightening barely ever strikes twice. Give me the money and I'll be on my way." Dante reached out a gauntleted hand.

They both acted like this was the first time they had noticed Beowulf. He let the light flicker. Humans.

"Are your gloves and boots glowing?" She licked her lips, nervous.

"They're gauntlets. And they're enchanted. The check?"

"Here." She reached in her pocket and handed it over.

"Sorry, but I have to get back to the shop in case any other calls come in. This one wasn't too urgent, but sometimes they are." Dante slipped the check into his coat. "You'd better call the cops. You can say you discovered the floor had collapsed and you found the body in the water. If they start poking around ask to talk to Detective Daniels."

"He's the one who gave us your number, when Richardson filed the missing persons report," the woman said.

"He just disappeared right in front of me. One minute he was there, next everything was black, and then he was gone. Just like that." The man was staring at the body.

The woman shook his arm. "Snap out of it, Richards. You're sure the complex is safe?"

"Yeah." Dante turned, headed for his bike. Before he got on it he dismissed Beowulf.

In the darkness, Beowulf wondered what the humans had thought of the glowing gauntlets disappearing.

Was petty amusement like that all he was reduced to? They had used to cower! A mere human-crafted enchanted weapon, how insulting.

Though Dante did have the right. Dante was his master, and Beowulf was honor-bound to let him use him as Dante saw fit.

Use him to carry on Sparda's legacy. Protect the humans.

He was taken out again when Dante was back at his lair. Devil May Cry, it was called.

Nonsense. Demons fed on emotion, what fool would let their own suffering go to waste? You held it to yourself, gained strength from it. Even humans could grow stronger if they dedicated themselves to vengeance.

Dante himself admitted he was insane.

"Beowulf, do you want to spar?" They were out in the courtyard behind the 'shop' that sold death and life.

The gauntlets gathered into a single glow that drifted away, taking Beowulf's form. "As you wish."

He should try to irritate Dante. Speak, distract him in combat the way Agni and Rudra did. Annoy him so he did not use Beowulf.

He certainly should not be training him. The youngling had raw power, that was true, but Beowulf's skills had been honed over millennia.

It was almost frightening how fast he mastered techniques. Dante had mastered them all, weapons and powers alike, on the tower, in the midst of chaos, not on the practice field. No time for mistakes, life and death battles against the remnants of the defenses that had held against everything the humans had thrown at the tower. Beowulf had just been promoted from field commander to master of those defenses (the previous knight had been killed by the Roman sorcerer) when Sparda had struck.

He should hate Dante, as he was Sparda's son.

But his honor as a dark knight compelled him to serve the one who had defeated him.

And Dante was strong. More than strong. To have survived alone, when he was nothing but a nestling? To have been able to hide himself and his powers, suppress them as an _infant?_

One day, like Sparda, he might even be stronger than Mundus. If he survived that long.

Mundus was hotheaded. He would only be holding back like this, only sending weak probing attacks, if he had some plan. It had been five years since the tower, and it had been too quiet.

As much as Beowulf was outraged at Sparda betraying the one he had given his vow to, Beowulf had no desire to let Sparda's dishonor compel him to do the same.

He had given Vergil his full service, Dante as well.

If Mundus defeated the young warrior and reclaimed them all, surely he would not be held accountable for what his honor had compelled him to do.

"Did I seem a little off to you while I was taking them down?" Dante was frowning and trying a few practice punches bare-fisted.

Beowulf examined his form. "No, you are improving. However, you only used simple techniques against those weaklings. Even though they weren't strong enough you needed the more powerful ones, you should have used the opportunity to practice."

Dante grimaced, looked up at the sky. "Yeah, I realized that after I killed them all. I was trying to take them down fast. It's a full moon. That always brings out the weirdos."

Beowulf looked up at the moon and realized just how long it had been since he had looked at it. His wings spread and flapped reflexively, feathers scattering.

One landed on Dante's nose and he sneezed, catching it as it fell. "Looks soft and fluffy, but it's actually razor sharp." He looked Beowulf up and down. "You look really weird. A horned ape with angel wings and hawk talons. Who comes up with all those looks you guys have?"

"Our parents, in the beginning, though the stronger of us can change their forms, such as Sparda. Or some weaker ones have the ability to take on human form built into them, if their parents expected them to be among humans."

Dante nodded. "A lot of you were worshipped as gods before Mundus made everybody hate devils, I know that. People giving away their souls."

"When Mundus announced he would turn Earth into a feeding ground many who had previously stood with him or remained neutral when he conquered our world took up arms against him to protect humans."

Dante shrugged. "Sparda wasn't the only good guy, I know. He's just the only one who's remembered."

"The traitor…" Beowulf cut himself off.

Dante sighed. "Look. I know you don't like my dad. Hell, I hated his guts when I was growing up. He just disappeared one day and left my mother to raise two demon brats. We gave her hell. And we had demons attacking us, and humans attacking us, all because of who he was and what he did. And finally she died protecting us. He left her alone to die. I still don't know what happened to him."

Beowulf nodded. "Agni and Rudra told me."

"Chatterboxes." But Dante was smiling. "It's weird, I actually like demons. Well, Lady and I are friends, and we both used to be nuts about that. You guys are honest. Even you, you don't really like me, but you're honest about it. You don't like me because of who my dad is, but you're not afraid of me because I'm a demon. I hate that."

"They should be afraid of you. You are powerful. You should rule them." Might controlled everything.

Dante shook his head. "I don't want to. I'd have to do paperwork. And as long as I have money I can get everything I want without ruling them. And then more of them would hate and fear me. I'd have assassins after me daily instead of… the last nut was three years ago. Man, time flies." He smiled. "Maybe they're learning to trust me."

"Or that you can kill them." Even humans had to respect strength.

"One thing, Beowulf. Can you can the glow around humans? I want people to think I'm as… well, as normal as anybody who can kill things that could mow down a platoon of marines."

"They should respect you."

"Respect is fear and love. Love… it's nice to be loved. To have people be grateful to you. Fear is not good."

"Why not? It gives you power."

"They cower. They cower and fear in the air is like blood in the water and I look at them and can't help thinking about how good their soul would taste." Dante shuddered slightly. "I've never given in and I _don't_ want to be tempted. Any more than is inevitable."

"You feed from the demons you slay. Their pain gives you power."

"That's different. Demons are demons, it's how they are. Humans aren't like demons. For a demon, killing is a good thing. For humans, it's murder."

"It makes no sense. If they are weak, they will be killed anyway. Better that their death serve some purpose, and isn't making the protector of them all stronger a good purpose?"

Dante blinked. "I never though of it that way and I don't want to start. Look, Beowulf, don't hurt yourself trying to get your head around it. Even I don't really get… philosophers are still debating the ends justifying the means and all that and if people who have the free time to dedicate their lives to thinking about it can't come up with something that everyone accepts I don't have a chance. I've got stuff to do."

"Killing demons and saving humans."

A nod. "So can you check on my form until somebody else calls in?"

Beowulf squatted more comfortably. "Begin."

Dante began to fight imaginary opponents, moving and using his powers in ways that would have wreaked havoc had he been wearing Beowulf. As it was the ground shook a few times.

If he survived a few more centuries, if he could gain control of his own powers, he would not need them at all.

He was using them as crutches, molds to pour his own power into, to shape it into a useful form, to channel it.

It was amazing he could even call forth the powers of a devil arm at his age.

Beowulf had killed humans with devil blood before. They had been created as servants. To be servants, they had to be kept lesser than their masters. Otherwise their demonic nature would compel them to seize power. Might ruled. So they grew only so powerful and then no more.

This one… was the heir of Sparda's powers. And he was growing up with human quickness.

If Mundus did not kill him soon…

"Good?" Dante called out.

"You're telegraphing it when you kick to the side." A smart opponent who could figure out the sign would be able to see the blow coming.

"Oh? I should put a mirror out here," Dante muttered, and started doing side kicks, eyes closed to focus on what he was doing so he could stop doing it.

"There, that's better." Beowulf nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks." Dante grinned at him and Beowulf found himself smiling back.

The gravel courtyard was illuminated by two white lights embedded in the walls of the warehouses on either side. The lights of the surrounding city were too bright to see many of the stars. The full moon shone.

Everything was in silver, grey and black, except for the red of Dante's coat.

Mundus' forces had often struck by night: demons could see in the dark and humans were more easily terrified then.

The silence was punctuated by distant cars, a siren, and Dante's grunts of effort. He really was trying hard. And learning quickly.

Beowulf remembered when he had been a nestling, remembered trying to avoid being eaten by the others. Remembered needing to grow strong.

Dante had been moving around so he could look at him from different angles, but what about from above? Beowulf jumped up to the top of one of the warehouses.

A grey shadow fell on Dante, who boxed with it.

Beowulf heard a ring inside the shop. The succubus poked her head out. He ignored her. "Someone's called with the password, sugar."

Dante stopped. "On it. Beowulf, ready for more?"

Beowulf did not dignify that with a response. The devil arm once again appeared on Dante's forearms and feet. Dante pawed at the gravel and headed in, careful not to scrape the floors too deep. With Cerberus around, scratches were inevitable, but inch-deep gouges were another matter.

Beowulf wondered why Dante didn't just dismiss him. He never wore the gauntlets in the office unless some suicidal demons were trying to wreck the place and there was a fight on his hands.

Nevan tossed Dante the phone. "Yeah?" The receiver was held awkwardly by the huge gauntlet.

"Where?"

"That's the one up near Chicago, right? Not the one to the west?"

"On my way. Be there in thirty." Dante tossed the phone back. "Beowulf?"

Beowulf hesitated. Dante preferred his weapons to keep quiet when in use. However, this wasn't battle, and Dante had addressed him. "What is it?"

"This one's going to be a two-man job. Somebody set something loose in a nursing home. We're going to need to get the old people out of there, but if we take all the old people and put them someplace unguarded, there's nothing keeping the demon from going there and just killing them all right away for the power boost it'd need to fight me. Someone's going to have to stand guard."

Oh no. "Why not have another devil arm take human form to guard."

Dante shook his head. "Tonight's your night. I'm not going to use another devil arm."

They all wanted to fight. Turns with Dante were rarely traded away. No one would be willing to take his place, and stand _guard_ duty when Dante would insist Beowulf get some of their next night out of fairness.

He'd taken human form before. Mundus had wanted humans to worship him, so he wanted his servants to appear human, or at least beautiful by human standards, when he met with humans that had decided to surrender and/or join him.

He hadn't done it since Sparda's betrayal.

Sparda had done it often, pretending to be a human, slipping in among their enemies to slaughter them. Had too much time among humans corrupted him?

Beowulf was starting to doubt it was something as easy as that. Or perhaps he himself was becoming corrupted.

So Dante was young. So what? Weak nestlings should be eaten for the good of demonkind.

He wasn't weak, however. He was brave, and honorable, even if he was mad enough to use his power to protect.

He was also Beowulf's master. If he had done it for Mundus, he should do it for Dante.

The gauntlets glowed, flowed together and the light moved across the room before taking shape.

Dante appraised him. "Good, you'll pass, but the panther pelt loincloth is going to have to go. You're not that much bigger than me… hope I have shorts."

Twenty minutes later, surrounded by a group of old, weak humans, perfect prey, that he wasn't allowed to eat, Beowulf hoped the demon would come after him. The old people stunk.

And this one old woman kept trying to cling to his hand no matter how many times he shook it out of her grip with a gruff, "I need to be ready in case it comes here."

He scanned the area and the sky. Unless there were two of them he was likely to be stuck here for a while. Dante had only brought the twin guns, and they were slow to kill. The sounds of firing were coming from the other side of the building.

The howling was making the humans shiver. He tried not to look at them. Really, were they trying to look appetizing?

It would be against Dante's wishes to eat any. He was honor-bound to obey. He just kept telling himself that.

The setting moon shone down and the shadow cast upon the wall towered above the others, wings spread over them all.


	15. Agni & Rudra: Firestorm

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. If I did, swords aren't allowed in the dorms (and California has a great climate), so Agni and Rudra would be sent to my parents in Maryland to save on heating and AC bills. _

_Looking at the script, usually Rudra is the one who speaks first and Agni responds to what he says. Rudra also knows what a sigh is and is the one who broke the silence agreement by saying "Impressive."_

_However, when they're asking Dante to take them Rudra is the one who first asks him to wait but Agni does the rest of the arguing, Rudra backing him up. Agni also has no problem telling Rudra he's wrong: how would Agni, who has probably spent less time with humans since he doesn't know what a sigh is, know how to entertain a human guest? _

_The dynamic seems to be that Rudra's the natural leader and is therefore not the best at respecting the authority of others (A&R are there to find someone worthy of wielding them-so they're in essence waiting for someone to follow who isn't Mundus, for whom they guard the door. They have no problems aiding an enemy of Mundus, in fact they beg to). On the other hand, Agni respects Rudra, who is more experienced, enough to follow him but is the more assertive of the two and takes over when Rudra isn't sure what to do, in which case Rudra respects him and has no problem following his lead. _

_Being red and blue brothers, Agni & Rudra obviously symbolize Dante and Vergil. Rudra, the blue one, seems to be the elder and the red is 'hothead' Dante. Agni also snaps at Rudra. _

_Seeing the cutscenes and battle for the first time when Gabe played the game for me, I was struck by the fact that these two are brothers who fight together, the relationship Dante and Vergil should have. When one is struck down the other uses their power and tries to avenge them: which is what Dante is doing in DMC1 with the amulet etc. _

_Against Arkham we do see Dante and Vergil fighting like that. But still, they can't achieve the brotherhood Agni and Rudra have. Seeing Agni and Rudra together must remind Dante of this. _

…_my, I haven't written a fandom essay in a while. Well, it's all in italics, so hopefully if you weren't interested you just let your eyes skip over it and go to the fic. _

-

Dante devil triggered and jumped into the air above the Phantom. Upside down, he spun them beneath them to create a tornado of flame. The demon cursed and tried to hit Dante with its tail, but the force of Rudra's winds pushed the tail back. The Phantom's legs couldn't support it under the weight of the storm and it crashed to the ground, flattened.

The abandoned factory's broken windows rattled, and shards of glass and cobwebs fell to the ground along with some old scaffolding.

Running out of devil trigger, Dante jumped away before the Phantom could use the opportunity to hit him, landing at the opposite side of the room and blasting away with Ebony and Ivory.

Rudra wished he didn't use them. He wielded him and his brother Agni, what more did he need? Agni had once muttered that it was almost as bad as with Mundus, Dante had so many other servants. They had wanted to be the only swords of some Dark Knight.

Still, at least they were being wielded at all instead of being sent to guard some door and abandoned there for two millennia. Agni had been almost out of his mind with boredom. Rudra had been too, not that he would admit it.

The Phantom had stuck his head in the ground and Dante was movingly randomly, the pillars of flame sometimes missing him by inches, as he blasted away.

The Phantom withdrew to growl, "Puny human!" in frustration.

Dante laughed. "You are as dense as you look. Come on, you saw me devil trigger and you still think I'm a human?"

"You dare mock a lieutenant in the armies of the Dark Emperor!" Its open mouth began to glow and flames shot towards Dante, who jumped up in the air again.

He landed on the Phantom's back and began to hack away at its tail. "I'll mock anything. I'm absolutely crazy!"

Agni wanted to tell the Phantom that Dante wasn't kidding. But no talking.

The Phantom was starting to rage incoherently, tail waving wildly as Dante flipped off of its back, landing right in front of the head and slicing at it. The Phantom tried to roast him point-blank but Dante jumped up again.

Studying his form, Rudra was impressed yet again. Every time he wielded them it seemed like Dante improved his technique still further. It had been almost eight years as humans counted time since he had defeated them.

Still, it rankled that he was so young and so powerful. They had had millennia to practice and he, a mere nestling, had defeated them.

Even Agni had to admit he was so powerful they would never be his match.

He was truly a worthy wielder. Thank goodness Agni had found the words to persuade him to take them with him that day. Thank goodness Rudra's breaking of his word hadn't angered him enough to abandon them there. To be trapped as swords without bodies… they wouldn't have been able to practice. There would have been nothing to do but talk.

He had recovered his demonic power so soon? Apparently so.

He executed a stunning technique. Literally, the Phantom seemed momentarily frozen in place. "Am-"Rudra cut himself off. Dante hated to be distracted, even by compliments.

Dante must have heard that, but he was kind enough to ignore it, probably because Rudra had managed to silence himself.

Agni wished Dante had knocked them together. Why couldn't Rudra learn to keep his mouth shut! Maybe Dante would wield them move if Rudra didn't keep acting like he was Dante's tutor instead of his servant and had the right to critique his techniques.

Maybe if Rudra hadn't been so prideful around Mundus' court they would have been allowed to keep their first position as warriors instead of being demoted to mere door guards.

He wanted to say something biting to Rudra. But he, at least, knew when to keep quiet.

Rudra had always been a talker, he had played with the human warriors and captives instead of simply quickly killing or ignoring them as Agni had. As they had been ordered to. Analyzing opponents was work for generals like Sparda and Griffon. They had been strong demons, worthy of rank, but not high in rank.

They had had a chance to be high in rank.

Oh no, the Phantom was trying to melt into the floor and escape. Dante jumped high into the air again, pushed off the ceiling and impaled the Phantom with both of them. It reared and roared, loosing its train of thought and Dante let loose with the rocket launcher he had brought, hitting it on the less-protected underside so the impacts kept it disoriented. It screeched and the edges started to melt away. Dante kept firing.

Agni and Rudra wiggled themselves to injure the Phantom further.

Seconds later all of it crumbled away, lava hissing and disappearing. They fell to the ground.

Dante put the rocket launcher away in his coat, walked over, and picked them up. "Good job, guys."

"You're welcome," Rudra replied graciously.

"You are our wielder," Agni reminded him. They did their duty. Especially when it was a pleasure.

Dante put them on his back, same as in the tower. Rested against red leather. Their favorite place to be, save in his hands. Hopefully there would be more jobs tonight.

Dante folded his arms and regarded the battleground. "Fire, and wind to fan the flames. Worst possible elements for a fire critter. Would have been quicker if I'd brought Cerberus. Oh well. Good practice." He walked through a hole in the wall, the only illumination now coming from starlight that shone through the holes meteors had punched in the roof.

His bike had been parked a safe distance away. When he got there, he turned to look at the wrecked shell of the building. "Well, they were going to demolish it anyway." He mounted the bike and drove away, whistling.

"Dante?" Rudra asked him.

"Yeah?" No irritation now. The battle was over and there were no humans around to hear. They could talk now.

"Are you sure there weren't any hatchlings?" Agni prompted him.

They couldn't see his face. "I didn't sense any… but they would be really weak, wouldn't they. As weak as the ones without bodies." The bike turned around. "I should go check, huh? I would lose my reputation if I said someplace was demon-free and the people who went in to check it out became baby food. Thanks for reminding me."

"Our pleasure." And Rudra was pleased. Dante listened to them, and this would make him listen to them more.

They hadn't gone far. Dante soon slid to a halt in the parking lot. "Guys? Can you take human form? It'll be quicker searching if we split up." He tossed them up in the air.

They landed, catlike, wearing matching leather armor, blue with red trim and red with blue. "I'll go left," Rudra volunteered.

"And I'll take right." Agni started off.

"You do that." Dante headed into the building.

Rudra waved his arms, the winds he controlled sweeping the ground clear of debris. On the other side he heard the crackle of flames as Agni burned his away. Just as they had destroyed forests to find human rebels.

They heard gunfire from inside the building. They had hoped to be the ones to find the Phantom's hatchlings. Agni cursed. This was their turn, their night, and there was fighting going on that they weren't a part of!

They met at the other side of the building (they were disciplined enough to know they should finish their own searches) and ran inside through a hole in the wall.

The sound was coming up through the floor. They looked for stairs. It wouldn't do to simply cut a hole in the floor and land on Dante.

There was a side door there. They ran through, the door slammed open so hard it splintered. This cheered Agni up. He hated doors on principle.

Dante was stomping on the ones on the floor and shooting the ones on the walls and ceiling. Agni and Rudra joined in, stamping and using their powers to kill the ones not in range. There was a lot of old equipment down here. After a while, they had killed all the Phantom babies that were stupid enough to come after them and had to look under the equipment. Luckily the small ones couldn't go into the floor. Hunting ones that were eight feet underground would be a nightmare.

"Ha! Take that!"

"And that!"

"Quiet you two." Dante listened. Nothing. Then he closed his eyes. "Could you two go back to the motorcycle? You're powerful enough I'm not going to be able to sense anything as weak as these guys with you standing right here."

That was reasonable, although they didn't like it. "Fair enough."

"As you wish."

They waited there for a couple minutes, though it felt like an eternity-they hated waiting-then Dante came out of the building. "Yeah, we got them all." He was spinning Ivory around in his hand. "Thanks for reminding me, guys."

"You're welcome."

"Our pleasure."

Dante got on the bike again. "Time to head back. Thirty minutes. That's just embarrassing."

At least it wasn't their fault. Agni and Rudra returned to his back. He turned on the motorcycle. "Let's ride." The sky was already starting to lighten. That might have been the last job for tonight. Humans usually did things either as soon as it got dark, the middle of the night, or there was a certain time after the middle of the night that was the worst time for humans. Mundus forces had known this, sensed the depression, and usually attacked then.

The roar of the motorcycle pierced the calm. Very few humans were out on the streets even when they passed through the middle of the city. Whenever they were outside Agni and Rudra always looked around. Any sight was interesting after the same room for two thousand years, even for Agni who had never cared about humans except for as prey.

Even for Rudra, it was strange to see an intact human city, with no signs of war or struggle. How could such weak creatures defend themselves? Humans had no sense of honor, they turned on each other. Even the part demon sorcerer in the tower had betrayed their wielder's brother.

They were weak and sinful and begged to be destroyed. Without the protection of the few strong warriors among them they would be conquered.

But why did those strong ones judge them worthy of protection, why didn't all of them abandon their species and try to become gods? Many of them did.

What had made Sparda betray Mundus?

Agni and Rudra hadn't liked Mundus either. He treated his liegemen like dirt, obsessed with his own pride. If Sparda had been stronger than Mundus why not challenge him to take his place? Why live in obscurity on the human world instead of ruling both worlds?

If Dante defeated Mundus (Agni was sure he would, Rudra wasn't so sure), would he take the place his father should have earned? He should. His brother had known the proper place for the strong was the Underworld. Dante belonged there instead of among weak humans.

But Sparda's seal kept most of the demons out. So it was safer for Dante here while he was still young and weak.

Neither Agni nor Rudra thought the elder one had had a chance. Powerful, very powerful. They had crossed blades with him once. But not even adult for a human. For a devil? Mundus was foolish, not weak. And Vergil had been weakened by his battle with his brother.

Poor Dante.

Forced to fight his own brother. Rudra was aware he was occasionally a fool, convinced he was right, but Agni reined him in. And Agni knew he was occasionally a fool, rushing in where angels feared to tread and being rude, but Rudra knew what to do.

After listening to Vergil, how cold he had been to his own flesh and blood they had rejoiced every time they had gotten a hit in on him, though Dante had relied mostly on Rebellion.

Rudra knew that had been reasonable, Rebellion was the sword Dante had wielded longest. Of course he wanted to use his 'best' sword against such a powerful opponent.

Agni thought Dante had deserved getting impaled by it.

The sun was about to rise as Dante pulled into the driveway that led to his 'office' stronghold. He parked the bike and strutted up to the doors. Pushing them open, the informed Nevan, "One Phantom down in fifteen minutes. Spent a little more time finding the damn little ones."

They knew better than to tell her Dante had forgotten there might be hatchlings.

Nevan stood up. "No more calls, sugar." She handed him a bottle of tomato juice.

"Too bad. I'm feeling in the mood for more action."

"If you don't want to stick around the office, sugar, you could go grocery shopping. That's the last bottle of tomato juice."

"How did we get so low without anybody noticing?" Dante grumbled.

"I have no idea. I just looked in the refrigerator and there was only one bottle. I swear there were eight yesterday." Nevan put her hands on her hips. "Don't look at me, sugar."

"I know I only drank two bottles yesterday." Dante sighed. "Looks like I'm going to the supermarket. Where's the list?"

Nevan held it out. It was a very long list. Dante took it and started to read it. "I'm never going to be able to fit all this in the sidecar. Looks like I'm going to have to make several trips."

"You could carry it in those pockets in your coat, sugar," Nevan reminded him.

"Nevan, people are going to wonder if somebody sticks a huge thing of toilet paper into a pocket and it disappears. I'm going to have to make several trips. I'll need somebody to watch the purchases until I take the last load." Dante looked at Nevan.

She shook her head. "Not if you're going right now, sugar. I've been up for five days running errands, answering the phone and getting that paperwork straightened out. I'm going to bed."

"Five days? Thanks, Nevan." Dante hung his coat, with them on it, up on the hook and started to unbuckle the body armor he wore to fool humans. They saw him smile at her.

Rudra considered himself too much of a real demon to use a succubus. Agni wished their duty hadn't restricted them to that room. Nevan had been in the tower all that time!

Now that they were in close proximity and served the same master, Agni had hoped when Dante acquired her that he could get some. But Nevan had made it clear she wasn't settling for less than Dante himself. By Underworld law, Agni would have been perfectly within his rights to defeat her and make her serve him as well as Dante, but Dante had made it clear there would be no fighting amongst themselves and Rudra had refused to back him up. Agni didn't want to fight without Rudra by his side. He also didn't want Rudra making snide comments about demons who couldn't keep it in their souls for the rest of eternity.

Dante himself could do a lot better than Nevan. With his power, once he was older… if he managed to defeat Mundus female devils would be after him for his power regardless of the fact he was a halfbreed. Still, there was nothing wrong with him using her to slake his lusts.

It seemed Dante was too honorable for that. Rudra approved, Agni thought Dante was right when he said he was absolutely crazy.

"Good day, sugar." Nevan went through the door as Dante finished taking off his body armor and putting it on the back of the chair.

"Good day, Nevan. Agni? Rudra? Could you switch form and put on street clothes?"

It wasn't as good as fighting, but it was something to do. Neither of them understood why Beowulf was against taking human form. Sure, it was dishonest, but humans were weak and deserved to be tricked if they couldn't see that electric blue and fire red hair as well as decently sharp teeth weren't natural. Dante said they looked like bodybuilders. Humans who tried to be strong? That was better than the average human.

"As you wish. But couldn't you just buy things a few at a ti-" Agni elbowed Rudra to shut him up. Any time spent outside was good, even if they would be standing guard over groceries.

Dante flipped through the list. "Then I'd have to stand in line quite a few times. I hate standing in lines."

"We will go change." Agni dragged Rudra upstairs.

"You do that."

When they were in the converted warehouse where everyone but Dante and Nevan, who had their own rooms, lived, Rudra remarked to Agni while they were putting on street clothes that, "It seems that he wants us to take human form. Possibly to help us understand humans? Does he hope we will decide, like Sparda, that humans are worthy of protection?"

Agni shrugged. "I do not know, Brother, and I do not believe I care. Human form is not too objectionable, we still have our strength as demon warriors. It is better than being put away like we were in the tower."

Rudra nodded. There was always the fear that if they displeased Dante he would not use them again. He was very forgiving, Rudra's slips of the tongue during battles… if he had annoyed a normal devil so he would have been tortured until he mended his ways.

Rudra wore jeans and a blue shirt, Agni khaki pants and a red shirt. They went out to the driveway to find Dante had hooked up the sidecar to the bike. "I really should get a van," Dante said, heel tapping on the ground in annoyance. "There have been a few times I've needed to transport things… but a van isn't cool. Maybe a truck. But a van, you can't see what's in it. That would be better."

Agni and Rudra had nothing to say to this so they got in the sidecar and away they went.

Dante had them push two more carts as he went around the store gathering items, many of which were totally foreign to the two of them. "Brother, do you know what this is?" Rudra asked.

"How should I know?" Agni shrugged. It was metal. Perhaps a weapon? But why would Dante want such an inferior weapon?

"It's a frying pan. It might be better if you guys were quiet." Dante looked significantly at the other people in the store.

Of course, they shouldn't reveal that they didn't know what these things were when all the humans did. "Fair enough."

"As you wish."

The carts were pushed to the front of the store, where they had to wait in line. Dante hummed a song quietly, scanning the area. There was a crush of people and carts. If a demon attacked now, many humans could die.

The humans around Dante were in danger. Demons knew he cared about the weak things and would have no problem killing them to demoralize him, in addition to the power they would gain by it.

Dante was a devil, he should be a proud lone warrior, needing no one but his twin.

But he didn't have his twin. Agni and Rudra noticed him looking at them sometimes. It had confused them at first. Envy? He was stronger than them. What could he possibly be envying?

They were Dante's servants, but they had something he didn't. Each other. On top of that, for a nestling to lose its parents at such a young age… Agni and Rudra hadn't heard any news in the tower, but something had happened to Sparda and the human woman he had mated with, the one whose photo Dante kept on his desk.

Was that why he sometimes treated them as equals? Tried to spend time with all his servants? Acted so illogically?

Agni and Rudra couldn't imagine being separated. Worse than separated. Mundus would not have allowed Vergil to die and escape him. Vergil was being tortured now, every last drop of suffering wrung from him.

Agni would go mad if that happened to Rudra. He would have gone diving into enemy territory after him.

Vergil and Dante had been enemies, actual enemies for years before that. Fighting Rudra, not just for play and to grow stronger but to hurt?

Dante paid the several hundred dollar bill with the folding green cash and they pushed the carts to the curb and made a pile. Rudra took the cards back while Agni helped Dante load as much as possible into the sidecar. Dante took off and Rudra rejoined Agni to watch over the spoils.

Here they were guarding again. At least there were things to watch here. Humans, although they weren't allowed to hunt or eat them.

A human woman was looking admiringly at them. The human males looked envious. Agni grinned. Rudra gave him a quelling look. True, it was flattering, but the opinions of mere humans did not matter.

Dante wasn't just a mere human, he was their rightful wielder. The human world was strange, and Rudra had always been curious about it, but it wasn't their world, just like these weren't their real forms.

They were warriors, killers, hunters. So was Dante.

Dante sought vengeance on Mundus. That was laudable, to kill those who had attacked your family. After that?

They looked forward to serving the new Emperor of the Underworld. There would be mighty battles then.


	16. Doppelganger: Wall Shadow

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_Yes, I'm back from hiatus. SIn will update with this, then Artemis, Nightmare Beta/Gamma (not sure which version yet), Beryl (from the second novel), and Alastor. At that point, I run out of characters I can do until I manage to play VJ, SMT:N or get my hands on DMC4's cutscenes. The other ones I'm updating are the _Angel Series_ and _As the Trumpets Sound.

_-_

He had no idea how much time had passed. Most of the time he was asleep next to the strong soul of the devil (be honest, not a full-grown devil, no, you, the warrior of shadows, got beaten by a clever little _nestling_) who had defeated him. He was only called out on occasion.

In the tower, the devil, Dante, Sparda's spawn (he could smell it), had called him out and he had obediently followed his lead, used the moves the nestling used after he did, shadowing him.

Then Dante had figured out that by dividing his focus in two he could control the Doppelganger independently of himself, and since then he had been nothing but a puppet instead of the proud warrior and infiltrator he had once been.

Awoken, summoned, dismissed when the fight ended or Dante's power went out, and then he fell back asleep.

At least he wasn't conscious and bored. Floating around without a body: he would be bored stiff. If he managed to spy on Dante, his master would probably get very angry and take steps to drag him out and do something more unpleasant. Well, this wasn't too bad an existence, it consisted of pleasant dreams and fighting, though it rankled that _he_ never got to do the fighting. Not even when the young fool had been poisoned and dizzy did he let control go: no, he let himself get further injured while trying to _dismiss_ Doppelganger instead of letting him help his master! Young idiot! Well, he was half-human, there was only so much you could expect from those with mortal blood, but for darkness' sake had he inherited none of his father's intelligence? He'd fought full humans with more sense than that!

And all the fights he was summoned for were simple, easy ones, fights that barely qualified as practice! Dante was perfectly capable of handling them himself, why on earth was he invoking Doppelganger for such trash instead of the real fights he must be facing? Mundus had to exterminate Sparda's line to regain his place as uncontested Emperor of the Underworld, there must be assassins, armies… yet he saw none of that, merely the weakest of unaffiliated demons, scum that came to the human world when they were unable to survive in the demon world: the prey was soft and slow here, and rarely fought back.

The obvious assumption to make was that Dante was keeping him in reserve. He was using him enough to stay in practice controlling him, but only against demons that wouldn't report back to Mundus that Dante was still strong in this technique. Dante had several techniques, it was reasonable to think that so young a nestling would neglect others to focus on the ones it thought were the best.

That was somewhat better than being _wasted, _but what if the great battle had already happened? Doppelganger had no means of keeping track of time.

No, if his master had killed Mundus, than it would have taken the throne of the Underworld surely.

Surely? Sparda had not. Sparda had sealed Mundus instead of taking the fight to the finish, preserved his strength for his greater endeavor. An endeavor greater than the throne itself? Protecting humans?

Foolishness.

He was serving the mad son of a madman. How heartening.

The nestling seemed to think that he was, like Geryon, simply an animal that gave a power, despite the fact that he had implied he was angry at the nestling's cowardice instead of shown his worry that the nestling had found the way to beat him. He spoke, he was not a mindless thing like a Nobody!

He had no idea how long passed between the periods where he was awake and able to think, but he guessed decades from how fast the nestling grew: but then humans grew faster, didn't they? He was perhaps five human years old now. The slaves in the tower had been sorted by age, human clerks had kept papers detailing the sins on their souls, and had driven the prisoners to more and more darkness until they were flavored enough to be worth consuming: innocents were so weak and bland, but a soul steeped in hate, rage, mindless lust and shame, the gluttony experienced after starvation, greed for better treatment (the only wealth available)… oh, they had been delicacies.

He hadn't been able to wait until the tower was freed from the seal, until he could aid on subduing the humans and taste such delights once again.

He didn't want to break his Master's control over him long enough to speak to him: it was incredibly disloyal to do so, especially since the only opportunity to do so would be in the middle of a battle, which would throw him off, make him more vulnerable until he recovered from the surprise, distract him. It was too close to treason for Doppelganger's taste: he was no Sparda.

Not that he would speak his opinion of Sparda and his actions in front of the nestling, who probably had been brought up to think that his father was some sort of hero. Ignorant humans would think he was.

Without the laws of fealty defeated demons would be killed instead of allowed to surrender and serve a new master without prejudice. Who knew what consequences Sparda's actions had to the peace of the demon world? Overthrowing an Emperor without taking his place must have sent shockwaves through the entire Underworld.

That it had been done by treason would make future Emperors be infected with the poison of doubt, doubt of even their right-hand commanders, for had not Sparda been such? Been Mundus' most trusted servant, the one deputized to lead the conquest of the other world and its strange, insane inhabitants.

Still, it was hardly treason to affirm his loyalty, make sure his Master knew his capabilities and was able to use him more aptly.

That last thought was interrupted by a dismissal, and it was not until he struggled awake during the next battle that he was able to complete it.

Dante's 'control' consisted of giving Doppelganger directions and the Doppelganger obeying them and sending what he saw, felt, heard to Dante so Dante would know what to have him do next.

As they were back-to-back for an instant, after Dante had landed from one of his techniques with the small modern slingshot equivalents, he disobeyed enough to say, "Master, I request that you hear me," and found that Dante, in his shock, issued no new orders, freezing for a second and turning to face Doppelganger.

As he had feared, the demons didn't miss that ideal opportunity to attack, and he was forced to jump to Dante's other side to block the many-stranded knife-bladed whip with his copy of Rebellion, who he had once considered a friend.

That one strike was all he needed to block, for the pause was only a fraction of a second before the nestling, showing his youth in his shock despite his battle-hardened skills, recovered and took to the air again to land on the outside of the clump and slice at the edges, hitting two or more with a single blow and sending them crashing into the others.

Still, no new orders came, and Doppelganger knew that this was his chance to prove himself.

He set to it with a will, smiling slightly and making battering dashes using his sword to strike away weapons in the way, firing orbs of darkness at the demons that climbed the walls. True, he could use any of Dante's skills and techniques, but he wanted to showcase his own, to remind Dante he was a strong warrior in his own right, not simply a pale shadow of the nestling's own skills.

His tribe of demons was highly valued as servants: they were not lone warriors but quested, as Agni and Rudra had been doing, to find a worthy wielder and, defeated, swear fealty to him: safety not in strength alone but in symbiosis.

In the Underworld, survival was precarious. His tribe's depended on their once-enemies knowing that their fealty, once won, was absolute. So did that of Agni and Rudra's tribe: they, as he, had been sent into Mundus' service in the hopes that they would be defeated by stronger warriors in an environment of safety: Mundus would not let valuable assets be destroyed, at least hopefully not. There was less risk there of being eaten instead of absorbed as a technique of accepted as a weapon.

He had already proven his worth as a technique to Dante, now he proved his own worth. His first move after the initial clearing of space around him to give him a few seconds free from attack in which to act was to block the broken windows that let a small amount of artificial light stream into the shell of this building.

Demons could see in the dark: as Dante had been able to during their battle they could see him, but he was a shadow and untouchable.

He taunted them to come at him and they did, the others watching until they were killed to spring out of hiding armed with a knowledge of his moves that might help them survive.

Their efforts were futile against such stronger demons: he was sure that if that whip had struck Dante it would have been the only blow landed on either of them in this fight. Pitiful opponents.

Still, he was aware that Dante was killing more of them than he was, wielding a rapidly changing array of widely different weapons with a lightening-fast style that seemed slightly more deliberate now, less of the wild abandon: if Doppelganger had known the poem he would have been said that the light that had come from a candle burning at both ends (and yet had lasted the night) was now surpassed by a carefully-tended blaze, though the same joy in the moment, in victory, still radiated from the nestling, who, Doppelganger knew, was fated to be a Dark Knight, perhaps a prince, perhaps even Emperor as the strongest should be.

Having influence with this one could not but be good for his tribe.

But Dante is his master, and one can have only one Master: his loyalty to Dante is above his own pride and his loyalty to the ones that spawned him, and that is how it always has been and always must be, though he will serve in the shadows perhaps forever, and the glory will surround the name of this one and not himself.

He had known that, as Agni and Rudra had known the credit went to the wielder and not the weapon, but still, they had hoped for more use, more battles than this: to be primary weapons, not part of such a large collection.

Those thoughts were unworthy and not ones to entertain in the midst of battle, when he was doing what any warrior loved (for once using his own skills, not being used) and had a Master to impress.

The battle was over as he dismissed his wandering thoughts, however, as they were such weak opponents. He growled and cursed them.

"What are you angry about?" Dante slung Rebellion onto his back, acting as cocky and nonchalant as he had in Temen ni Gru. Weaklings like this wouldn't have dampened his spirits if he could keep them up while running _that_ gauntlet.

"Over too soon." He mirrored Dante's pose as he mirrored his appearance, mirrored his arms-folded annoyed look. "Weaklings."

"Yeah. A pushover. And I'm going to run out of devil trigger eventually, so you might want to say what you've got to say," Dante reminded him.

"Master," he started, bowing.

Dante stared. "Now, that's a word that should never come out of my mouth. Can you look like you did when you came out of my shadow the first time?"

"Yes," Doppelganger answered, pleased. That was a much more suitable form, the nestlings _true_ form, as the strong devil that he was. Too bad that as a half-breed Dante was mostly restricted to that weak human form. Doppelganger shifted, that form taking no more power for him than Dante's true one.

"Okay, better." Dante nodded, surveying him. He seemed much, much less ill at ease now.

Had he been discomforted because Doppelganger's copy of him was too much like the other that mirrored him, his twin, nestmate, enemy? Though this form was almost as like to the other one's devil form as Dante's human form was to Vergil's.

Though, due to their lack of power and the many forms that Dante took as a devil, surely his twin's devil form would be less recognizable, less graven in his mind than his human form.

"Keep looking like me when we're fighting, though: it's better if anyone catches a glimpse of us, they might think I'm just moving fast even if they see both of us at once," Dante told him thoughtfully, tapping his foot. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Doppelganger's voice was growlly, now, as it had been when he had taunted Dante in their fight. "I have not spoken to you since our fight: I wished to speak with my Master and renew my pledge of allegiance."

"And you bugged me in the middle of a battle just for some kinda formality? After five years of not one word? I thought you were like Geryon and didn't have a brain: after all, you only said one thing in our fight, same thing several times, like a robot."

"I am not awake when you have not summoned me, I could not choose another time."

"Well, that's good." Dante looked relieved that he wasn't being spied on.

"Also, I was worried that you might think what you just told me was true. You have not allowed me to fight under my own direction in a long time."

"And you wanted me to quit treating you like a trained animal like Geryon?"

"That, and to tell you that you do not have to split your concentration to direct me when you need to focus on your own fighting: I can hold my own without your guidance, though you are a skilled tactician."

"Translated to get rid of the flattery, you're sick of me using you like a puppet and want to get to do your own fighting. I get that." Dante nodded. "At least you're not like Agni and Rudra were, interrupting me every five seconds. You've been holding this in for five years?"

"It has been five years? I have only been awake a fraction of that time." Doppelganger shrugged.

"I'm almost out, I'll call you up later."

"As you wish, Master." Doppelganger bowed, and fell asleep.

He awoke (how much later he did not know) in what he thought was Dante's home given that the place was covered in his scent and the scents of the others. Doppelganger had never been summoned here: the place must be watched.

He doubted the Master had used an item to restore his magic for his sake: in fact he hoped that none had been wasted simply to speak with him when what he wanted to say had already been said. Hopefully the Master had simply fought another battle and recharged during it.

Dante was standing in the middle of a wooden room. Doppelganger noted the heads of demons pinned to one of the walls and approved: trophies should be kept as signs of victory and proof of skill, to warn lesser opponents away. It also showed that he took pride in his skill, as he should. Doppelganger's strength had grown to the point where the ones who wanted his strength weren't strong enough to defeat him and the ones he wanted to serve were too strong to need him, which was why he had been a guard instead of the technique of a guard. Agni and Rudra had the same problem. That was why they had been 'exiled' to guard duty, where there was no one to fight them but weak humans, instead of helping with the pacification of Mundus' empire. They were strong enough to defend the tower well under the command of Beowulf and Sparda, but not strong enough to be considered wasted there.

"So, since you have a brain, I'm probably going to have to include you in the rotation," was the first thing out of Dante's mouth.

"Rotation?" Doppelganger asked.

"See, I've got tons of weapons and there's only one me, so you guys have to take turns. They don't want to have their turn when I use you anyway, because I get done faster and I devil trigger less, so this might make things easier. Maybe count you as one of the weapons and only take one when I use you?" Dante shrugged. "Whatever, I'll ask Nevan to redraw the schedule. That sort of thing's her problem, not mine. I just kill shit."

"Nevan is a capable organizer, she was commander of the succubi."

"Yeah, I wish a couple more of them had been in the tower with you ugly guys," Dante answered, grinning.

Doppelganger responded by copying Dante's appearance again.

Dante laughed out loud. "Okay, good point." He walked around Doppelganger, seemingly admiring himself, though there was a shadow in his eyes. "Can you do other people or just me?"

"I can do anyone I have been near." Master's twin, Agni, Rudra, Nevan, Beowulf.

"Whoa, go back to that last one."

Nevan again.

Dante grinned. "If I was going to bang demons, I'd ask you guys for a threesome."

Nevan-Doppelganger smiled. "Whatever you command, Master," she purred.

Nevan had often sought out Doppelganger to ease their boredom on the tower, as she had quickly gotten bored of the juvenile twins and Beowulf was above sleeping with succubi. He didn't have her experience but his (or her, on occasion) shapeshifting ability combined with Nevan's allowed for some variety.

Being called out for something besides combat would be pleasant. But what he had said… he didn't want to have sex with demons? Did he intend to eventually mate with a _human_? That would water down Sparda's blood even farther!

Doppelganger had been surprised that Sparda had given Rebellion to a half-breed: half-breeds were servants, not heirs. Children of lesser demons might join the ranks of the gods, but not the children of humans.

According to what Doppelganger had been told, the strongest half-breed had been Heracles, but he had needed to bribe his way past a much younger Cerberus: Dante had defeated him outright. What made this one so different, so much stronger?

"That whole absolute obedience thing kind of bugs me," Dante told him. "You're going to have to at least argue with me if I do something crazy: I hate doormats and people who don't let you know they're angry with you until they jump at you with a broken bottle."

Doppelganger, still in Nevan's form, blinked. That wasn't how it went.

"I mean, you guys have thousands of years more experience than me. I may have kicked your asses, but that doesn't make me God. I don't know everything and dear ol' Dad didn't exactly give me a manual about this whole demon thing. There's a lot of stuff I just sort of feel," he pointed at his heart as he said that, "but it doesn't always make sense and there's stuff that isn't just instinct. I got weirded out the first time one of those God of Time statues sucked me in and it took me awhile to calm down and tell it to let me go. Mom told me what to do, but she isn't around anymore and Pops never was."

"You are a god, Master," Doppelganger told him, confused.

"Hell no. I've got my own problems, I'm not going to go around curing cancer or giving children in the city ponies."

"…What?"

"Answering prayers?"

"You do not have to do that to be a god."

"Well, you have to do it to be a decent one. I'm not going to hit people with lightening bolts. Well, not humans anyway. And I can get people to worship me just with them seeing my handsome face, I'm not going to start telling them to kneel down before me. Well, if they were hot and I was eighteen again, maybe." He grinned at the thought of that. "Anyways, I'm not a god. I'm a devil, yeah, but I'm a human too. There are enough people who can resist my good looks enough to not like me as it is, I don't want to piss them off by going around and saying I'm superior to humans, even if I can kick a hell of a lot more ass than them."

"But you are stronger than humans, stronger than many of the other gods, devils, whichever you choose to call them."

"Strength isn't everything." And his face was shadowed again, as it was when he thought of his twin. "Might isn't right."

But it was. That was the foundation of the Underworld's laws.

Sparda's son was as insane as he was.

"Never mind." Dante saw the confusion and repulsion on his face and waved it away. "I'll see to it you get to fight more. Least I can do after you've been helping me out and not asking for anything before this."

"Thank you, Master." Doppelganger bowed.

"Go back to looking like shadowy devil me, okay? Two Nevans around here is going to be confusing, though you don't move like her."

"As you command, Master," Doppelganger spoke and obeyed.

"Nighty-night." And Dante dismissed him.


	17. Trish: Carbon Copy

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_The title of this one is Carbon Copy because that's what Trish is. A living (and probably carbon-based) copy of Eva. However, she's not an exact copy, just like the ones made by carbon paper aren't exact. Her hair is darker, for one thing. Also the whole being a demon thing. _

_Like Lady's chapter did and Lucia's chapter will, this picks up right after the end of the game in which Trish is the 'DMC girl.' So this is the mission she says should take five minutes._

_I've been asked for the order of upcoming chapters a few times so I'll give it here: next is Ifrit, then Lucia, then Matier, then Alastor (this will include some version of the VJ events, there are sort of 4: regular VJ, Dante's playthrough, Alastor's playthrough and the anime. I need to decide how much I want to include of what, although as an Eva fan I regard the information revealed in Dante's playthrough about her soul being in the amulet and resurrecting Dante as a child to be true even if the game is a self-parody), and by that time the novel should hopefully have come out and I can backtrack to the woman gunsmith, Aisha, E&I themselves and Rebellion, as well as any other major characters. I want to do a chapter about Hitoshura and the events of Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne but ideally I'd like to play the game first since I'm having trouble with research. We'll see how that goes. So far I've only managed to play half of Dante's disc of DMC2. _

_And I really need to stop procrastinating and get on with the bloody fic. That's why you're here, after all, not to read me rambling on. Like I'm doing now. Okay, that's it. _

-

Trish slung herself onto the motorcycle. It was identical to the one she had made Dante blow up: Dante kept spares, another of which he was mounting himself right now. He looked back at her and muttered, "Going to have to get you a license. Okay, Trish, let's go." He started up his bike and drove off, slowly at first. She sped to catch up and soon they were racing almost neck and neck: she stayed slightly behind because he knew the way.

She loved this. Like fighting, there was an adrenaline rush. She felt so alive! She'd known Mundus would destroy her as soon as her use was over (he hated the enemy whose image she bore), and then the column, and her suicide to save Dante… but here she was, alive and his sidekick even now he knew she had been sent to lure him into a trap. Even after she'd tried (though not her hardest, even then) to help Nightmare kill him.

She was almost disappointed that the ride was over so soon. Dante had placed his shop in a part of town with a lot of demon activity. The poor area, where people preyed on each other and there were enough victims for a few extra predators. She was looking forward to the ride back but the reason she wasn't disappointed was now they would get to fight together.

She'd given him her power to beat Mundus: she didn't really feel like she'd fought beside him. Against him, yes, but he'd mostly avoided her and concentrated on Nightmare. Now she would get to show off. Show him that she was strong. Not as strong as him, but strong.

He was so incredibly strong. Defeating Phantom and Griffon so easily! Even the weapon designed specifically to kill him, the Nightmare, hadn't been able to destroy him even with her zapping him in the back!

He was so handsome too.

_You've got a crush, _she told herself, and knew it was true. When they'd hugged after the victory even though she'd thought they were still going to die she'd been happy in his arms. That tear… her emotions had been going crazy, fear and this new thing called love, that illogical happiness, the _rightness_ of being there.

She watched him get off the bike. "Are you coming, Trish?" He was looking back at her, puzzled.

"Oh, yes Dante." She grinned confidently and followed him as he walked up the stairs to the row house and kicked open the door.

She wanted to push past him, show how brave she was but there wasn't really room in the hall. He strutted lazily forward, guns not even out. He peeked into the kitchen then headed upstairs.

It was in the master bedroom: the bed was collapsed in the middle making a rough nest, blankets and mattress stained with blood from the bodies dragged into it. A man and a woman, crawling with black lumps. A shadow's brood.

And there was the shadow. "Dante, look out!" She gathered her power, glowing yellow like the sun and blasted it.

It dodged and the blast hit a mirror. Reflecting it right back at Dante. She felt double deja-vu as she yelled, "Look out!" and lunged to push him out of the way.

She wasn't fast enough, though she'd been fast enough then, knowing how long it took for Mundus' blasts. The blast hit him, and all Trish succeeded in doing was knocking Dante over.

At least this pushed him out of the way of one of the shadow's spears. She cursed in demonic as he fell onto the bed. Luckily he managed to jump away from the bed before the kits could hit him with too many of their small spears.

Trish had never been so embarrassed in her short existence. "Sorry!"

"Forget it, Trish, just kill the damn thing!" Dante had been blasting away with Ebony and Ivory even as he fell and he kept on as he rolled to his feet.

Trish took out her new guns, Luce and Ombra. She'd never used guns before but they came easily to her hands.

She'd fought shadows before while she was training against all kinds of demons to prepare her for facing Dante. And to cull her if she wasn't strong enough to defeat him. She'd sometimes wondered which number Trish she was. The others had all been destroyed.

They both dodged like hell, bouncing off the walls and ceiling. Trish channeled her own power into her gunshots and Dante did the same with Alastor's power.

She still didn't believe he'd given her the Sparda as a tombstone. She really didn't believe he'd let her keep it even after Mundus had almost defeated him because he didn't have it.

Would he still let her keep it even after she'd made such a fool of herself?

Dante jumped on a horizontal spear and blasted away. This finally made the shadow weak enough it exposed its core. Trish went after it with the Sparda and Dante with Alastor, both of them circling it so it couldn't hit them with the spears it kept sending, although Trish ended up having to flip away from one it sent where it predicted she was going to be before she could resume the attack. Dante devil triggered to give his hits more power.

The shadow reformed quickly, but their strategy of 'keep moving and shooting' wore it down again and the stages repeated.

That made it seem easy, Dante made it look easy but the whole thing was a mess of chaos, gunshots and dodging, jumping and rolling, the shadow darting around chaotically and Trish almost shot Dante several times. This was harder than staying still and blasting through a force field. What a workout.

Trish knew it was about to die when it started glowing red and made a final lunge for her, trying to take her with it so at least one of them wouldn't be able to attack the kits.

Lightening quick, she jumped to the side, landing on the other side of the room.

The blast ripped a hole in the walls and floor.

The kittens, seeing this, came out from where they had been hiding under the bodies they had been given to eat and ran for it. "There are five of them!" Dante yelled. "You take those two!"

It was a deadly game of hide and seek: three of the kits tried to attack them in revenge while the other two ran. Trish killed one quickly but the other almost made it to the bottom of the stairs. Good thing they didn't have all their powers as kits: most of their abilities came from spells they cast on themselves. Their parent had clearly cast a lot of spells on them to help them protect themselves.

But not enough.

Dante checked his watch. "Well, look at that. About five minutes. Good job, Trish."

"Good job? Dante, I hit you!" Her voice sounded outraged. She searched his eyes. She'd reminded him, hadn't she? Reminded him of when she'd attacked him, the time his mother's image had betrayed him. Mundus had gloated about how he would suffer, attacked by his mother and brother. She'd been created by Mundus to help torment him, and yet he saved her life, took her with him, gave her priceless treasures, his mementos of his parents! It didn't make any sense! She'd heard humans were all illogical, but this?

And his illogic had infected her. Yet Mundus was the one who had lost.

But now… she'd been incompetent, too! She wanted him to respect her, think of her as someone worthy to be his sidekick! She'd just announced she would take the position on the plane from Mallet, he hadn't agreed or disagreed yet. What if this had been her test and she'd just failed? She didn't want her fear or desperation to show in her eyes, just the fact she was ticked off by him being so casual about it, but she was afraid they did. And he was half-devil, she didn't know exactly what powers he had. Even Mundus didn't know: Dante had probably been trying to keep them secret from him. Could he sense her feelings even though she was trying to hold them back?

He just shrugged. "Trish, everyone needs practice. You were just made, right? I'd probably have been a tasty mouthful at your age. Don't worry about it. Just don't let it happen again, all right?"

Well… that was better than him thinking it was on purpose. But she didn't want to seem like a baby either! He patted her on the shoulder. Grr! Or maybe it was a comradely gesture? "Come on, let's get paid and go back to Devil Never Cry." He headed down the stairs, gesturing for her to follow.

A police car had pulled up outside. There was a policeman sitting in the driver's seat and a man in more normal clothes that still exuded official authority. His hand rested on the shoulder of a young boy, couldn't be more than eight. "Dante, is it dead?"

"They're dead. Damn thing had kits." Dante walked over and crouched in front of the kid as Trish got on her motorcycle. "What's your name?"

"Terrence. Are Mommy and Daddy okay?" A childish hope shown in his eyes, past the tear streaks.

Dante shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Terrence lunged away from Dante and the man. "You were supposed to save them! You're the cops, right! You're supposed to save people! They can't be dead!" He made a break for the house.

Dante grabbed him. "You don't want to go up there." He seemed softer, gentle like he had been when he held her. Was that just he way he was? When people needed him to be? "Your parents would like you to remember them the way they were, not what that thing did to them. How did you escape?"

"Daddy, Daddy threw me out the window." He sniffled, starting to cry again. "He said to run and then Mommy screamed and I ran and called 911 like you're supposed to and…" There were little scratches all over him. Trish looked and saw the front right window was broken on the first floor.

"Your parents saved your life. It's okay to cry."

"Don't tell me what to do!" He tried to pull himself loose of Dante's grip.

"My parents were killed too." Dante tugged him back.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Now, you're going to be brave. And you're going to tell Daniels here what happened, and he'll take you to the station and they'll find your relatives. It's not the end of the world." A wry smile. "It only seems like it."

The child stopped struggling and stared: Daniels took him. "Here's your pay, Dante. Thank you." He held out a wad of bills that Dante slipped in a pocket.

"He didn't save my parents and you're paying him!" The boy hit him, but there wasn't any force behind it. Tears ran down and Trish watched.

She'd never… humans were weak and prey, she'd been told that, that Sparda was wrong, but, she felt like she wanted, she needed to protect this child. That she'd failed, that those people shouldn't be dead.

They had been killed by a demon. Like her.

She'd served Mundus. If he had won it wouldn't just be isolated attacks. Humans would be prey, and know it. The whole world would be engulfed with agony and fear, the only safety would be for those who served Mundus. As long as they didn't fail him.

He must want her dead even more now. She had betrayed him, just like Sparda. She'd already been a worthless pawn just for bearing the face of Sparda's mate.

The human, Daniels, put the boy in the car. "I'm sorry about that. But why did you make him mad at you."

Dante shrugged. "I didn't save them. I deserved it. And if he's mad at me, he's not thinking as much about the bodies."

"They were probably dead in five seconds. Not your fault." Daniels shook his head.

"No, it would have kept them alive longer than that." He shook his head.

Daniels looked around, trying to change the subject. "Who's the new partner? I thought Nevan'd gotten a dye job and a new outfit at first, but she looks different. A little like you. Is she a relative?"

"Yeah, long story. I gotta go. There might be more calls."

A… relative? He thought of her as a relative? That was better than enemy, than trick, than fake, but she didn't want to be a relative! She wanted more than that!

Did she even have a chance at getting it when she was what she had been made to be?

She wanted to get away from here, back to Devil May Cry. She sped ahead of Dante. How could he stand her! She was just a fake, an assassin!

She skidded to a halt right in front of the steps and sat there.

Dante arrived soon. "Damn it, Trish! Do you know how many traffic laws you ignored? Someone could have gotten hurt. I'm sending you to driving school as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry, Dante." She hung her head.

"It's okay, Trish. I shouldn't have assumed you knew traffic laws just because you could drive."

She knew traffic laws. She'd just… she'd been made part-human. She had human emotions. Human females had… mood swings, right?

He didn't hate her. He already cared about her. All she had to do was make him care about her a certain way. How hard could it be, right? She loved him, wouldn't he love her back?

Dante headed through the doors. She followed. She'd follow him anywhere.

"How did it go, sugar?" Nevan was in Dante's usual position at the desk. She got up and surrendered it to him.

"It went okay, Nevan." Just okay? Well, that was better than disaster. Dante was right, it had been an honest mistake. Things happened on the battlefield.

"That's great, sugar. I know Trish and Alastor will work out just fine." She patted him on the head and Trish's eyes narrowed.

Dante was a Dark Knight, he wouldn't use a succubus, right?

What was Trish but a succubus?

No, she wouldn't think that way. She had saved Dante's life, repaid what she owed him. He had saved her life in the first place, he cared about her. Even if it was only for the face she wore, that was a start, right? She would be his sidekick, she would help him.

"I'm going to go practice a little more with Alastor." Dante headed for the back.

Trish and Nevan were left alone in the office. Nevan resumed her seat at Dante's desk.

Trish remembered when she'd met Nevan: Nevan had been there when the plane landed from Mallet Island and had been dealing with people so Dante would get paid for it.

Was Nevan already in the position Trish wanted to occupy. "Have you and Dante mated?" she said confrontationally.

Nevan laughed, a rich velvet sound. "Mated? Dante? With a demoness? Honey, what _did_ Mundus tell you about him? The boy's obsessed! And now Sparda's sword is unsealed and he knows his brother Vergil might be alive he's going to be even more focused on that. Oh, people set him up with girls every so often but he hasn't gotten laid since I've known him. I would have smelled it." She licked her lips. "Not that he's a virgin."

Nevan was a lot older than her. More experienced. Didn't look like his mother. "Well, if you're not in a relationship, then do you mind if I court him?"

Nevan rolled her eyes. "If you think it'll do you any good, honey. You'll just break your heart. I've seen how he looks at you."

"What do you mean, how he looks at me?" Trish's temper made her hand start to glow.

"Honey, the boy's obsessed with his family. Vengeance, rescue, everything. You look like his mother. What do you expect?"

"I'm not his mother."

"No, you're not. But he doesn't want a mate now. Sure, he'll take one someday. You'll see how he looks at kids. He wants a family to protect. But not until the danger's over. Not until he's satisfied. And if defeating Mundus again didn't satisfy him I don't know what will. Except total victory." Nevan shrugged, even that movement sensual. "You know, I had a crush on his father once. Didn't have the ghost of a chance. You're based on one lucky woman." She sighed, eyes distant.

"So you're not after him?"

"I didn't say that, honey." Her attention was back and she was amused.

"Well, if you're not going to make a move I will. May the best demoness win."

"You're wasting your time."

"Wasting time how?" Dante had come in.

"Girl talk, sugar. Never you mind." Nevan looked at the clock. "I'll go write those letters. I'm sure Trish can watch the phones for you." She headed for the side door, hips swaying. Trish saw Dante look and look away and felt another surge of jealousy.

She'd been made to entrap and seduce Dante. She could damn well do it! He deserved better than some slut. Who had been working with him for years. She was probably sleeping with all his devil arms.

Dante had taken his place in that chair. Trish sat down on the desk. "Dante, I'm really sorry about earlier. It won't happen again."

"It wasn't your fault, Trish. A few lessons at driving school and you'll know better."

"I mean about zapping you with my powers." She leaned down to look at him. He didn't even glance anywhere but her face.

"That's okay, Trish." He shook his head. "Don't mention it." Though his eyes grew a little distant at the thought.

He'd been so_ angry_ when he'd pointed that gun at her. Said she didn't have a soul… thank goodness she'd cried, even if it had been painful at the time. He'd looked at her differently then.

They were both… sort of humans and sort of devils, him by birth she a devil meant to imitate a human, with some of her characteristics. So she was like him, wasn't she? Sparda had loved this Eva, right? So she should have what Dante wanted. Mundus had planned it, but she wanted it too. Maybe it was still fate.

"If I'm going to be the Legendary Dark Knight's sidekick, Dante, I'll have to shape up. What if I'd missed when I was giving you my power to blast Mundus?" she chided him. Reminding him of the good things.

He laughed. "Thank goodness you didn't." Shadows in his eyes for a second. If he had lost… He'd won because of her. He'd almost lost because of her: if he hadn't given up the Sparda… She didn't want him to think of that but she knew he was too smart not to have realized his almost-fatal error.

"We got off to a rocky start, Dante-" she was quickly interrupted.

"Trish, you burst though my doors, made me wreck my own motorcycle, wrecked my desk, broke the glass on my picture of-that's a lot more than a rocky start. Don't worry about it. You proved yourself, Trish. I'm not going to hold who you were against you. Hell, my father slaughtered a few thousand people and he ended up being someone who fought for the weak." He shrugged. "If he could do it, Trish, you can."

That was Dante. Darkness, she wanted him. She even loved him. It wasn't just a crush! He had this crazy faith in her that she wanted to live up to.

Maybe he'd started out trusting her because of her looks, maybe that was the only reason he'd saved her instead of finishing her off after she'd revealed she was Mundus's servant, maybe that was why he trusted her with his mother's amulet and his father's sword.

But she'd proven herself, hadn't she? She'd saved him, then when by some miracle she'd arisen from the dead (she didn't know how but it didn't worry her) she'd gone to help him instead of just running. She'd saved the world, he had been losing when she got there.

So what if he had said, "Mother," when she arrived?

Looking at him looking at her with an eyebrow slightly raised (well, she was looking at him with a slight smile), she knew he was right. She could do it. She felt like she could do anything if he was with her.

Just because the succubus had struck out didn't mean she would. She wasn't going to give up that easily. The last Legendary Dark Knight had loved someone with this face. Maybe she would inherit that human woman's luck even if Dante said she would never have her fire.

She felt hurt at the thought of that. She'd been so devastated she hadn't even reacted when Mundus had told her she had failed and would take the punishment.

But everything had turned out wonderfully. Because of Dante. Mundus was gone if not dead and she was free to dedicate her life to him.

"Trish, why are you just staring at me and smiling? It's getting a little creepy."

"Nothing." She leaned farther forward and kissed him on the forehead.

He blinked, a little surprised, a little withdrawn. "What was that for?"

"Being you." She grinned at him.

He snorted. "Normally people try to kill me for being me. I'm an annoying son of a bitch."

It had just been an offhand comment, but it made her pause. She had tried to kill him because of who he was. Sparda's son, Mundus' enemy. But that wasn't her anymore. She'd changed. He'd changed her. She wanted to show him how grateful she was.

She pulled him to her, his head against her breasts and patted his back. He froze, still in her arms. "You're a big lug but you're sweet."

He laughed, trying to pull a little back. "A lot of people seem to think that. I have no idea why."

"Because you're sweet." She tugged him close again. This time he relaxed a little. Was she making progress?

Then he pushed her away again, leaning back in his desk chair out of reach. Why? He'd hugged her before, when she needed it. Why not now? Didn't he want to hug her?

He looked far away, looking at her face but not seeing her. "Stop that!" She told him, hands on her hips. "I'm Trish, not your mother."

"No, you're not my mother."


	18. Ifrit: Fire & Brimstone

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. Although I will be buying the novel as soon as it comes out. Yay! _

-

The succubus Trish preferred to rely on her own powers and the sword of the Dark Knight Sparda. She took him on important missions or ones where she thought she might need the power of fire, but most of the time (a year had passed since the island) he remained either under the hot water heater or in the furnace.

Alastor had come to him to complain about Dante not using him as much as the young knight wanted. Alastor had been amazed that Ifrit didn't mind his own lack of use.

He was content here, content to sleep and dream. After all, he had warned the other young dark knight that the one who awakened him would pay dearly with the fires of hell. He drowsed, heat a low simmer.

The dragon shifted in the bed of coals and watched through half-lidded eyes the wax thing the young constructs (human-made demons) had called a crayon melting. They brought him gifts, new and interesting things to burn or melt.

In the old days… he had been one of the first to come to Earth when it was discovered that a new realm had come into existence and that there were souls to feed on within it. He was old, the ancient dragon at the root of their fears, and he was tired. He had seen them all, seen them flee in terror, seen them sacrifice to him, seen them fight and burn all the same, until a human with the demonic power of water had defeated him. Humans bored him. Everything but battle bored him. Battle and his memories.

There was a knocking on the door of the furnace. "Are you awake in there?"

Ifrit hissed and pushed himself to his forelegs. "Yesss."

The heavy door, enchanted not to melt when he burned hotter in dreams, swung open. "I found this. Do you think you can destroy it?" Dante held out a blue banded orb.

"We shall see." Ifrit's tail reached out to wrap around it. "A talisssman of power. There are trapped ssoulsss within."

"Yeah. It's called a generator. This sorcerer made one and was planning to use it to create electricity, the power Nevan and Trish have, and sell it. Can you destroy it and get the souls out?" He looked at it, worried. Such compassion for such weak things, for food.

"I can hear their sscreamss." His tongue flickered out, tasting the agony in the air.

"I know." The dark knight looked disgusted but that wasn't the whole truth.

"It is appetisszing to you. Tassty ssoulss." His tail laid the orb in the bed of coals and lazily spun it around like a toy.

"Trish uses you enough you're not hungry, right?" Sudden concern.

"Yess, I am sssated on the deathsss of enemies. Sstill, thiss iss a tasssty ssnack." His forked tongue kept flickering out and it licked the orb. The souls inside were panicked, the pain of their imprisonment augmented by the fear. Even without bodies and minds they knew there was a predator near. Two predators.

"You pick out words so you can hiss as much as possible, don't you?" The young knight raised an eyebrow and Ifrit hissed in laughter.

"Can you do it or not?" Dante asked, interrupting his merriment.

Ifrit bit the orb, catching a soul in his teeth and dragging it loose. "Ssee?"

It writhed in agony before he released it to flee to the Underworld, where souls went before returning to be reborn, unless they were trapped somewhere.

Dante had covered his ears as soon as Ifrit bit, grimacing in shared pain. "It is loossse." Ifrit spun the orb into range again. It had been a long time since he'd tasted this. There had been the human on Mallet who had tried to take him as a weapon: he had boiled the flesh from his bones.

How had he ever gotten tired of that taste? He licked the orb in anticipation.

"Don't!" Dante reached out and put his hand between Ifrit's mouth and the orb. Ifrit hissed in disappointment and tried to shift the orb to the side so it could get around Dante's hand. "I said stop!"

"You are not my massster. You gave me to the ssuccubusss," Ifrit pointed out.

"I'm still stronger than you _and_ your master's master! Stop!"

Ifrit stilled. "You sspeak truth."

"Is there any way that will get them out _without_ hurting them?" They were panicked now, flying around crazily in the orb, banging against the spell that hold them even though it hurt, desperate to escape. Ifrit tasted the air again. "I can dessstroy the talisman."

"That's what I wanted you to do in the first place." Dante took his hand out of the furnace. "Do it."

"I did not mean to anger you." Ifrit blinked once, slowly, and turned his attention to the orb, wrapping this small body around it and increasing his heat, tightening his coils.

Dante closed the furnace door and Ifrit was tempted to bite another soul. No, Dante would sense it. Dante was strange. Why didn't he like human torment? Was he a picky eater? Nestlings sometimes were. He only fed on demon deaths, as far as Ifrit knew from observing him. Not that he had paid much attention.

The orb started to melt and the pressure of his body crushed it further. When the spell on the outside was obliterated the souls fled and the orb ceased to glow. Ifrit felt slightly saddened by that. It had been pretty.

Dante opened the furnace door and took the orb. "Thanks." He seemed to have relaxed now, as though some burden was gone.

"I have a quessstion." Ifrit made himself comfortable again, the lesser fires of the coals soothing. The flames were sometimes hypnotic, he would stare into them and see old memories.

"Shoot." Dante tossed the orb into a basket that looked like it was made of the stuff called plastic. It melted, but sometimes burned. "Now you've got me using s words," but the joke fell flat.

"Why were you troubled when I bit the sssoul? In fact, why did you want the talisssman dessstroyed? It was an item of power, and as a warrior you need ssstrength to fight." Ifrit stared into Dante's eyes.

"You were hurting it. It was screaming, Ifrit. They were in pain. I know this sounds crazy, but I don't like torturing things, even demons." Dante shook his head, gaze penetrating Ifrit. Why did he taste slightly of anger as well as the revulsion?

"Why?"

"It's just wrong. Look, I don't know how to explain it to you. I don't know what made Sparda stop, even. Just as long as you belong to me or Trish, don't hurt humans. Got that?"

"What if they are enemiesss?"

Dante's eyes narrowed. "Even sorcerers should get a quick death. Even if they don't deserve it."

"Even though you hate them?"

"No Ses. I'm impressed." A half-smile.

Ifrit hissed in laughter again. "It isss an amusssement."

Dante snorted, also amused. "Thanks for destroying the generator, Ifrit."

"It wasss a pleassssure." Ifrit bowed slightly, arranging his tail neatly. He remembered courts, Mundus' court when he had demanded that all who lived among humans serve him in conquest or be killed and eaten.

He had grown tired of aimlessly wandering and killing. There had been epic battles then… but that was long ago.

Dante grimaced. "A little too much of one." He closed the furnace door and went away, up the stairs.

Ifrit gazed into the flames and remembered hunts long past. Hunts of demons as well as humans, he had traveled and fought for his new territories.

Some time later, he didn't particularly care how much later the furnace door swung open. "Come on Ifrit, let's go." It was the succubus.

"Asss you wisssh." He darted through the air, becoming gauntlets upon her hands.

She did a few quick moves, not summoning his flame. He could control what temperature he was so he did not set fire to houses or burn his wielder. Assuming they passed his ordeal by hellfire. He hissed lowly with laughter, remembering a few upstarts who had dared and failed. "What's so funny?" Trish asked.

"Humansss."

The succubus chuckled, checking the guns hanging on either side of her belt. "They are odd, aren't they?"

"Dante is half-human and he himssself sssaid he isss craszy."

Trish nodded. "He's something else." The sound of her voice as she said this… the succubus actually cared about him? Succubi cared for no one but themselves and whatever advantage and security they could wring from the demons and devils that used them. Dante was a kind master, but he had other succubi. He had Trish fight on her own instead of wielding her as he did the other succubus. She didn't possibly think he would actually take her as a honorable mate?

He tasted the air as he burnt it. No smell of sex on her, much lust. He hadn't taken her? And she wasn't seeking another target?

He wondered if this human-seeming one had caught human insanity. He had overheard when Dante faced Mundus the former Emperor saying that something she had done was an odd behavior.

Perhaps the doings of the others here were worth paying some attention too. He was old, he knew this, and his glory days were behind him. He was one more devil arm serving a mere servant. But then, so was Sparda. He hissed again.

"Trish, come on," Dante called.

"Keep your pants on, I'm coming," she said amusedly as she went outside the doors and mounted the moving metal thing that roared. She dismissed him to better hold the handles.

They took off.

There would be battle soon, Ifrit's spirit thought, winding insubstantial coils around her. Battle was the only time he truly roused himself. It was wearying, afterwards. Ah, to be young again.

They had arrived.

Frosts. Ah, this was worth awakening for.

"Trish, use Ifrit," Dante commanded, drawing his swords with the power of fire and storm.

"Dante, I'm not a kid. I know what to use against ice." She planted the Sparda firmly in the ground and flipped off her bike, summoning Ifrit's power while in the air to land on one of them, fists down, then pushed herself off it into the air again, the poison claws one of the others fired at her.

Six of them. Trish used a rolling blaze and hit two of them with it. Dante had sliced off the arms of two more and was breaking the ice they had created to regenerate while the last two of them became mist and traveled to behind him. Trish shot out a fireball at them, giving Dante time to roll clear. "Thanks, Trish!"

"Hey, what are sidekicks for?" She brushed it off but seemed to fight with renewed vigor.

"You know," Dante said happily, using a wave of wind from Rudra to deflect the shot claws of two of them, "Six of these ones getting through at once? I think that sorcerer I stole the generator from was really pissed off. As soon as I track the bastard down I'm returning the _favor_!" The last word came out strangely as he devil triggered, summoning a tornado of flame and spinning the swords to hover in the air.

Two of them had jumped at Trish from either side but she rolled clear and kicked one in the back as she sprang up. "Well, you did burn down their hideout!"

Fire. Burning. Ice demons, his natural enemies. Ifrit roared as Trish launched another attack. "Ssummon me!"

"We're doing fine!" Trish refused as Dante finished off the one he had been concentrating on.

"Ssummon me!" Ifrit roared.

Trish looked at Dante, who shrugged. "Go ahead!" He shattered two more patches of ice.

"Let me grab the Sparda first!" She vaulted over the bike, grabbing the huge sword and channeling her power into the gauntlets, enough for Ifrit to manifest in a form more suited to battle.

The huge dragon flickered, weak red flames strengthening to yellow-orange as he roared. All the Frosts stilled and turned to stare at him. Ifrit laughed, breathing out gouts of flame, tail flicking tauntingly. "Come, ssmall onesss!" He dived into the middle of them, almost landing on Dante who jumped up out of the way.

Ifrit circled around, breathing out flames, setting fire to the trees. The crackling was music to his ears! One of them even exploded. He swiped two into the flaming underbrush with his claws: mortal flames produced by mere wood wouldn't harm them, but the crack as his blows connected did. He grabbed one in his tail and banged it around: it turned to mist to try to escape. A mistake, it realized as the mist evaporated so close to Ifrit's flame. He had thought these things were intelligent! "Ussselessss ssscum!"

The claws they fired bounced harmlessly off his armor, melted to harmless lumps as they neared his flaming body.

He saw Dante behead another one and roared. "You ssteal my prey!" His tail lashed out and Dante jumped clear.

"Okay, okay, we'll stay out of it. Trish! Back off!" Trish ran over to Dante.

That was better. The last three tried to surround him. He struck one with a claw, another with his tail, and breathed on the third. Two of them died. After so little? He had wanted a better fight! He struck at the third, biting and injecting it with his poison of liquid fire. It turned to mist to escape and the poison dropped to the ground, creating a pool of fire.

So beautiful, surrounded by flames. He roared to match that roar, jumping to land in front of his escaping prey, the ground shook, and laughing as it ran again. The dragon and the lizard played cat and mouse, If tit occasionally batting it with his tail or giving it a glancing blow with his fire.

How long had it been since he'd taken his true form? None of his human masters had been foolish enough to let him show his true strength. He hadn't tested the succubus before. He could do so now. Burn the thunder demon, her powers struggling against his and only producing more flames… How glorious. Or…

He wrapped the Frost in his coils and squeezed, feeling the life crushed out of it, glorying in the death of its body as its soul drifted away, powerless.

He turned to his masters.

"Good job, Ifrit. Now get back here." Dante beckoned for his soul to return.

Ifrit stalked over. "Young onesss, I am the dragon. I am the firesss of hell."

Small. Tasty. Each had a scent of human about them. Human and demon, he'd never tasted that before. Something new, in all these millennia. Something worth taking.

"You are not my massster. The sssuccubuss iss, and I have not tesssted her." He laughed, and the fires laughed with him.

"Trish, get back." Dante pushed her behind him and grabbed the sword out of her hand. The Sparda awoke, red arcs of light flaring. Sparda's sword slept. Would it awake? That would be interesting.

"Why do you defend her? The weak are prey. I am the old ssserpent, the dragon that feedsss on women and children and men, the ssstrongessst warriorsss are my meat and drink, blood and flesssh and sssoulsss." He laughed again.

"Ifrit, I am still your master. I only reassigned you. Are you going to betray me?"

'I am within my rightsss. If I kill her, I will ssstill sserve you. You are worthy."

"Dante…" She tugged at Dante's arm.

"Trish, I said get back. Ifrit, test me instead of her," Dante ordered.

"I am no traitor, to turn againssst my rightful massster." He shook his head.

"You have my permission."

"Very well." Ifrit drew in a breath. To test the young dark knight again… this was more interesting than slaughtering even a strange woman/demoness.

Dante jumped into the air, summoning his true power. So this was how he had looked fighting Mundus. So like his father, only with a mask… Ifrit felt power gathering and drew in a breath as a dragon of dark flame shot out at him.

The last of the devil's power he had been given by Trish and the deaths of the Frosts was taken up by the damage, and he dropped to the ground a small wyrm, hissing with laughter. "Ssso that is your power, Massster. I sssurrender."

Dante dropped to the ground, becoming human again. "Why did you do that?"

"It amusssed me." His tail lashed as he walked over to them.

"Don't ever do that again," Dante growled.

"It's okay, Dante," Trish told him. "He wasn't serious."

"You could have fooled me." He glared at both of them.

"I did fool you, nessstling." Ifrit laughed quietly.

"Tricky old goddamn snake," Dante muttered under his breath. "Damn demons."

Trish looked hurt. "Not you Tri-well, yes you, and me… forget it. Let's get out of here before we get charged with creating a forest fire." He stalked off towards their bikes.

Ifrit coiled around Trish's legs, sniggering. "That wasn't very nice," she told him mock-seriously, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"I am many thingsss, but not nissce." He nibbled on his tail. "You have not passssed my tessst."

"We serve the same master." She squatted down to pet him. "Thanks."

"For what? Amusssing myssself? You do not have to thank me for that."

"He protected me. He even used Sparda's power. He never uses Sparda's power." She touched the sword that had been returned to her back. "He wants to use his own… he was that serious about defending me."

"He does not lussst after you."

"But he cares!" Hurt and amazement in her voice. She was such a nestling.

"You ssshould not play with him in lussst. You will be burned." The ground under him was rurning black but her flesh and clothes stayed unharmed. He only destroyed what he wanted to.

"It's not my fault I look like his Mother."

"He is a nessstling no matter hisss ssstrength. He wantsss his parentsss and nestmatesss more than a mate." Ifrit yawned. "He isss waiting." He let go of this form, soul drifting up into her arms to become gauntlets.

"I know he misses her, that he really loved her. But I'm me."

"You are young, assss he isss. Nessstmate you are to him. Little sssissster." The flames flickered around her soothingly.

"Not little! I'm his sidekick, I help him. I'm not weak! Well, compared to him I am, but then he beat even Mundus." Hero worship.

"Trish!" Dante's voice called out. "Come on already! I want to get these ashes off me and I really don't want to be found here. Ifrit, what did I tell you back on Mallet about burning everything, huh?"

Ifrit laughed again. This had been very amusing. Perhaps there was something worth paying attention to besides just the battles. "It amusssed me."

"Tell that to all the animals you just toasted the homes of!"

Why did animals matter? They were prey, like humans. But then Dante cared about humans even though he was a strong devil. Devils didn't even care about weak demons, so kinship didn't matter. Only immediate family.

Trish dismissed him. "We'd better get back to the shop, Dante, more calls might have come in and we need the money."

"I know, I know." They took off.

Ifrit thought privately that if she didn't want to be associated with his mother, the last thing she wanted to do was look after him and nag him like a nestling who didn't play with his prey like he should,

Nestlings.

He'd slept all the time he was in the gauntlets, except the rare times someone tried to pass his test and the even rarer times they succeeded. But he only woke for the battles even when he had a master. Since Dante had awoken him he had only drowsed. Perhaps there was something worth studying, something worth staying awake for. Dante was truly powerful and insane in a way he had never seen before. Something new.

He was placed back in the furnace by Trish with a whispered thanks. He was disappointed there were no more calls, but he'd had more excitement in that day, in toying with the nestlings, then he'd had since he'd seen a halfbreed nestling fight the Emperor even he, Ifrit, had obeyed the orders of without challenge.

The people he was with now did strange things, like use him to make strange things called s'mores that contained a lot of sugar and burned sweetly when they shared the food with him, and give him little gifts when they didn't need to bribe him so he would let them live. He was a demon servant now.

With any other master than Dante he wouldn't have dared play a trick like that. He would have been tortured for the insult. Another master wouldn't care for a mere succubus like that.

Strange. New. Interesting.

Worth staying awake for. Worth obeying a few silly rules about not eating perfectly good food for.

The furnace door opened and a round thing came at him and burst on his scales. Water? The furnace filled with steam. He sneezed.

"Gotcha back." Dante chuckled, throwing another one. Ifrit hit it back with his tail, but Dante returned him and it burst on his sharp scales.

Ifrit hissed cheerfully. "An amusssing game."

Dante joined him in laughing.


	19. Sparda: Gate of Horn

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_The title is from the belief that there are two gates dreams come through: true dreams come through the gate of horn, false dreams through the gate of ivory. _

_The Sparda is Sparda's devil arm. It's his sword, it's called Sparda, it contains his powers… it's pretty obvious. We know that a demon's soul goes into the devil arm when they were defeated (e.g. Nevan) and that that soul can come out again (e.g. Alastor in Viewtiful Joe: Dante still has the devil arm but Alastor's soul is not in it: Alastor in fact fights him) and/or talk to the wielder (e.g. Agni & Rudra). _

_Force Edge in DMC3/1 is 'sealed' by the separation of the amulets. It makes sense that this would restrict Sparda's ability to act, which would be why he doesn't talk to Vergil or, later, Dante when they wield Force Edge. Also, when the amulets are together and with the sword in DMC3 Arkham wields the sword. I don't think he would try to use Sparda's power against his sons unless he had some way to stop Sparda objecting to this. Notice that the unsealed Force Edge remains Force Edge and does not test Arkham the way Alastor and Ifrit test Dante, indicating this is not the same as a normal devil arm situation or when Dante unseals it in DMC1. _

_In DMC1, the Force Edge turns into the Sparda. If this were a normal devil arm situation it seems pretty obvious that Sparda would want to start talking to his 'long-lost' son. That he doesn't indicates there's some reason he can't. _

_Possible reasons: when Sparda created the seal he also sealed his own powers (the way I do it in Rapture is this was necessary because _something _had to power the seal) so he still might be too weak to communicate (although the amulets together and near the sword_ _seems to empower the sword. Note there's no indication the seal on TnG was ever replaced. The amulets being separated closed the portal, they don't say it re-establishes the seal. That could explain why Mundus can just build another portal on Mallet without having to track down Lady and re-do the whole thing). He could also be weakened by whatever killed him (the demons we see talk are Agni and Rudra, who effectively surrendered, and Alastor, who was defeated who knows how many centuries ago) and/or by whatever spell Arkham used to control the power of Sparda. _

_In any case, given the above the below is my best guess as to what's going on with Sparda. I hope future games clarify his status (and Eva's) in the way others want Vergil to make a comeback from control by Mundus. Although I want poor Vergil to get rescued too. See _Angel Blade.

_And enough theorizing/procrastinating. On to the fic! _

_On names – the several naming sites I checked said that Virgil was an alternate spelling of Vergil and Vergil means strong. Dante means either enduring or everlasting. Quite a nice set of well wishes. _

-

He didn't think he was dreaming now. This was a dream, but enough of a nightmare it might prove true. As his lady said, it was almost impossible to believe things that were almost perfect. Like their marriage, their children… Ashes and dust, but risen from the dead and free of Mundus.

Almost. Almost, and he hurt for the child that was not here but he also hurt with his joy at the ones that were here, in body or spirit.

He had dreamt.

When he was awake enough (but was he awake, or only dreaming he was awake?) to remember (but were the memories true or dreams themselves?) he remembered nightmares.

Nightmares of his wife and children captured by Mundus' generals. Dragged to the Underworld. Tortured but not killed. Not permanently. Displayed, so all would know and fear Mundus' power once again. His pride (and oh Mundus had been proud: he'd deserved that pride) would require it. And his temper, that had demanded the survivors of the bloodlines of those who opposed him (even devils, and what of a poor almost-defenseless, however brave, human?) either eaten or enslaved to join his forces. Fight for the one who had ended their lives and the lives of their parents.

He dreamed, over and over, of his betrayal and death.

His killer hadn't meant to kill him. He had meant to capture. But it was Sparda's best kept secret (and how hard he had had to train and study, to be skilled enough to keep it) who much the seal had drained his powers.

So Sparda, the mighty Sparda, had fallen. Such a fool, to not even bring his weapons. Perhaps if he'd had Yamato, Luce and Ombra… perhaps if he hadn't come to the parlay, perhaps oh perhaps.

The maybes were like knives of guilt and he'd failed.

Failed his family.

Might was right, weakness was evil and his trust that another devil would not lie had made him be defeated. Him, the 'Great Sparda!' He couldn't even protect his family.

His family that Mundus would do anything to destroy…

He knew it was wrong of him to not warn his parents and kin of what he was about to do. He had hoped they would have enough warning to go into hiding… but he'd known most of his kin were dead.

But a few hundred lives against an entire world? Even his own family?

He'd only dreamed of that a few times, the looks of betrayal when they learned a traitor had doomed them, one of their own. He'd had almost two thousand years to come to terms with that.

But his new family, his nestlings, so young and weak, and his wife…

He'd known, known they were doomed.

His only hope had been that Mundus in his pride (after the seal had been broken, for the seal would be broken soon enough, no, had been broken) would dare try to take his sword for himself. Without taking enough precautions… no, he was not fool enough to let Sparda's blade have a chance of killing him. He might be able to hurt. It wouldn't be enough. And then… he would have to serve Mundus. The killer of his family. Mundus would torture him.

Sometimes he thought that might be better than the dreams.

But he dreamed of different things now, dreams that felt like waking. Had he gone mad? Humans who were alone (alone, how many years had it been?) could go mad. His mind was stronger than a humans, but how many years had it been? He had no way of knowing except the count he only was awake enough to keep some of the time and kept losing track.

One time, he'd felt a surge of power and known the amulets were combined. Known the seal was about to break, known Mundus was coming for him. Or whatever general he wanted to risk.

It was no surprise that the seal broke. Perhaps, he'd dared hope, he would be able to see what was left of his children?

No, Mundus would not let them die. Spill their blood for the tower, spill their blood while Sparda watched. But… it would be better to know than dream and if he could see her, see them…

A human? A sorcerer, it had been. There were always, always humans willing to betray their own kind for power and immortality they almost never gained. Hubris, it had been called by those humans he had fought for Mundus. Those humans who had made him see…

The amulet came nearer and he felt himself grow stronger, more awake?

He'd watched (or had he only dreamed? He'd had nightmares of Mundus coming for him before, daydreams perhaps, horrible fantasies, but this felt… real. But then when you were in a dream they felt real, most of the time, didn't they?) as the amulets combined, felt the surge of power, readied himself to kill the one who had spilled his nestling's blood and taken the amulet (but why were there too? Had Eva been free long enough to break it in half? Surely Mundus would see no reason to.)

And then… nothing. Asleep again, denied his vengeance but a rest before Mundus had him.

But he 'woke' to a dream of Eva's death, next a dream of battling up the tower (though not as he had battled up it. In the dreams he faced what his children might have become, a strong warrior who wielded his blade, the Yamato). The sorcerer might have kept him for himself. Perhaps the sorcerer had even killed Mundus? He would be weak after his resurrection for quite some time… an idle hope.

He had failed, he did not deserve the triumph of his power defeating his hated foe. Oh how he hated, fed on his wrath, for what he knew had been done to his family.

He though that dream (had it been true?) was when things had changed. The amulet (part of it) was near, he thought. Yet he didn't feel that strength… who would give up his power, the power of the soul of the mighty Sparda? And he felt, sometimes… he dreamed of a son, a warrior strong and mighty. And those dreams, weak and rare, hurt almost more than anything, for they showed what could have been if he hadn't been _weak. _If he hadn't _failed._

Things might be different for humans but for demons a failure was worthless, and he knew he had failed his family.

His human bride… and she had thought she would die and abandon_ him!_ She would have cried over him (though he didn't deserve it). Sometimes the dreams were even crueler and he felt her beautiful, bright soul near and tasted her love and it hurt, oh how it hurt, he knew what he had done to her, left alone, doomed her to fail as well, for she was strong but eventually Mundus would have gained enough power, his servants would have overrun her and if she was lucky she would have died, and maybe his soul would have slipped though his fingers and she would be lost and free of the pain inflicted by him… if only he hadn't tied her soul to the amulet.

A human soul was small and the amulet's power would hide her but when would Mundus figure it out? Sparda's human bride, symbol of the humans Sparda had betrayed Mundus for…

She couldn't still love him. Not even his saintly killer. So the dreams stung, although sometimes, in them… while he was in the dreams he felt a peace he did not deserve, as much as his self-hate tore at him.

For he loved his wife and he loved his children and sometimes (and the humans would call him twice a traitor) he wanted the worst to happen, for surely Mundus would force him to see his family's pain but at least he would get to _see _them. He had longed and it hurt.

Although after the seal fell and the amulet was brought near and the wielder he dreamed of (a human, most certainly. Had a human warrior killed the sorcerer? Perhaps he had been a rogue and not one sworn to Mundus for power?) kept him near that longing was almost quenched, and he felt so disloyal. He should suffer for them. Pain was strength, and if he was stronger, perhaps he could break out of spell and death to do… something, even if only avenge and mourn.

He did not care for the human world, about to be conquered. He only wanted vengeance, in the way of his own kind.

For oh how he had loved them, both the one who was stronger than she had any right to be and the two helpless nestlings (though they had tormented the livestock) he was so proud of for they learned and grew so quickly… and love was power and sometimes he had wondered if the dreams were real.

He'd known there was no way the warrior who had won his blade could be his son. His son, adult and free? That convinced them they were dreams, nothing more. False visions to torment him with the worst of the evils Pandora had inflicted upon humanity: Hope.

But… if there were humans still free, who still fought (and oh the many, many battles, the scent of blood and death) then perhaps there was still hope?

Hope.

And then he tasted the blood of the warrior, and knew he had gone mad, for it was the same as his youngest, he of the fiery little heart, his mother's child.

And then he tasted the blood of the dark knight Mundus had sent against him, but not before he sensed the amulet he bore.

That he believed, that Mundus had taken at least one of his children… his madness would have been further confirmed if the child had been rescued.

But then, after the child was taken away instead of becoming a devil arm… oh then, oh then his radiant lady!

The amulet complete again and he felt himself grow, let his power course through the body of the wielder. His son!

It had seemed so real. So many of the things he sensed dimly now seemed so real. He wanted to believe, he did believe, but there were always doubts… but could a dream match his lady? He dreamed of her running, screaming in panic instead of resolve, and no that was not her, she would fight to the end. Nightmares painted the blackest picture.

But she was dead, and that was a bit of reality in this dream. His other son's torment… he had known that would happen, but one free?

Fighting Mundus, his soul aiding his son… it was a dream, a dream, too beautiful to be true, his power and the power of his lady's amulet aiding their nestling, their beautiful little boy, all grown now, scarred but not broken, he had grown free!

How had she _done_ it? To protect even one? His lady was the lady of miracles, though he felt not pride but torment.

Their son abandoned them after Mundus' defeat?

That, he could believe. Failures were nothing and they had both failed. He had failed them all and she had failed their eldest. They had both died when their children needed them.

They did not lie there, his lady (clever lady!) raised the one who had fallen to save their son (saved him when they could not) and she brought them to him. She was the one to save him in the end.

His son sealed away Mundus, defeated him so he would lie for another two millennia, without him. So strong! Such a miracle he felt so giddy.

Beautiful dream, too beautiful to be true but it had felt so real! If only…

If only their son had been saved, if only he had been able to talk to his son, to his lady, after all these years… how long had it been?

Then the surge of power (for the place they fought had been filled with the power of the Underworld) went away and he dreamt true dreams of doing all the things his heroic son had done himself. He'd known they were dreams but oh, to hurt his hated foe! If only he had gone into the Underworld after him, killed Mundus instead of only sealing him!

However, that would have weakened him enough Mundus' generals would have been able to kill him. That would have left the humans undefended by the seal.

That would have meant he would never have met his lady, his children (so strong, the both of them!) would never have been born. Selfish as he was, the latter was the better reason.

Their son had given them to the demoness and he did not take them back. The demoness was akin to his lady and he felt his lady's soul touch hers, beginning at the resurrection.

He rested at her back and she bore the amulet as well. She fought bearing both of them, and he fed on the deaths of demons, also fed demon blood by his son and his new wielder, this new daughter. At least they had saved a child, stolen a child from Mundus, even if it was not his own child.

No, their son had done it. The demoness had chosen to save his life before Eva had touched her. The demoness loved their son, and it was not only a reflection of Eva's love.

Love, joy, happiness, triumph, they filled the air around him. His son's powerful soul, like a red giant and his lady's small golden star… he dreamed pleasant dreams, now.

He woke to see battles, their daughter grow more skilled, their son show his strength (though not his true strength, he kept his skills secret. So wise and yet so young!).

Because of him now, when he dreamed (for the girl kept him under her pillow in case of attack and was never parted from the amulet) he dreamed with his golden lady. Because of his son. His son.

There were nightmares. There were still nightmares, when he dreamed this was a dream and Mundus had him, had his lady, had both his children instead of one. One there was a hope of rescuing, for surely his generals knew the value of the hostage they had?

Mundus was fallen.

If Sparda had gone to the Underworld, if he had rallied his family and survived the attacks of the generals, he would have become the new Emperor. His son, Dante (which meant everlasting, enduring as Vergil meant strong, and he was enduring, to survive so long alone) was the rightful King of Hell.

Eva had been very amused to find out Sparda could have had that title. "No wonder some say you're Satan in disguise." Oh, to talk to her again! Surely there was some way!

He was weak and it was a clever spell that held him back, he could pick at the edges but it could not be undone from inside, but there had to be some way!

His eldest, even his eldest, the one taken had been able to resist Mundus enough to spare his Twin's life! How… incredible, amazing! Surely he was bloody but unbroken, surely the generals would be too cautious to hurt him any more… well, much more. After the rage at Mundus' second defeat wore off they would come to their senses.

Or kill him to make sure he was never rescued as a vengeance… no!

Dante had killed so many strong demons, ones he recognized from Mundus' service. Even Beowulf. Surely he could…

But that would be a miracle, and Sparda had never been foolish enough to think himself a god. He had given up his right to miracles when he had fallen, failed to protect his children and consort.

Dante might deserve a miracle. Dante was a miracle, as was Vergil, as was his golden lady, Eva. Eva.

Her soul cried out to his, love and anguish (she had missed him so much!). Sometimes they shared nightmares, where she searched and searched and could not find him, where he called out to her and was not heard. They each tried to shield each other from dreaming of the other's death, but they thought of it so much they failed.

He saw her run to find Dante, get him to hide, her desperate battle, couldn't find Vergil was he already dead. She saw his betrayal, felt his knowledge he had failed them all and there was no forgiveness for that.

She forgave him, and sometimes that was the hardest thing to believe at all. Humans were mad, all of them.

If he was mad… then yes, he did want the madness to cease. This was almost heaven, but… if the worst had happened, then he wanted to suffer with his family as he deserved. If there was anything he could _do,_ he wanted the chance to.

He had helped Dante. Done all he could. He hadn't had the power to give him, help him devil trigger, the whole time, but he'd found the power when it counted so he could face Mundus in a true battle of devils, of the gods.

Though he hadn't been able to do anything when those spears struck him… his son had saved himself, in saving his mother's replica in the name of his mother. Eva…

Eva was the reason he had survived. Not Sparda. Sparda was the one whose enemies had hunted and harried this child. So much _pain_ in him. Pain he transmuted to strength. So, so proud of him.

And now he would have the chance to tell him that. Clever child.

He hoped this wasn't a dream, as he felt the power rise and his soul be pulled from his devil arm.

Lidless eyes of a ghost saw the sword on top of a pile of red orbs, a pile that grew smaller as the orbs were absorbed, giving Sparda the power to wake up fully, the power to do this. But they weren't quite enough power.

The tip of the blade stabbed through Dante's wrist. Without a trace of pain on his face (pain of the body was almost nothing to a warrior) he crouched there, his life force ebbing as the blade fed.

A quiet smile of satisfaction on his face as he regarded the devil ghost that stood in front of him, lower body stuck through the pile.

Sparda bowed his head, respect and love. Though he did not deserve to have that love returned. Trish (would she accept him as a father? She let him guard her, and Eva was bound and determined to have her for a daughter) stood behind Dante, eyes wide.

Sparda tried to speak but his insubstantial form could not move the air. He bowed deeper, respect to one who had triumphed. Did he have the power to spare to send feelings? Crying vented emotions, emotions (particularly the dark ones, for a warrior), were power. He had very little power. The orbs were disappearing quickly and he wanted to hear his son's voice.

"Can you understand me?" Dante asked.

Sparda nodded.

The edge of Dante's mouth curled up. "You know, I used to imagine getting the chance to talk to you. Back when I was younger I really hated your guts, you know."

Sparda nodded again. He deserved it, he had failed. Failed his family, left them to die.

"Mom really loved you. She was miserable without you, though most of the time she managed to hide it. I used to wish she'd married someone normal, like a nice mob boss. Of course, she would have gotten his enemies too, then, but I wouldn't have been a freak." Still that smile, only traces of old anger in that voice.

"Dante, you're not a freak!" Trish objected, whapping him on the back of the head. Sparda's devil mouth smiled. That was Eva, but also her.

"Yeah, I know. Now. I was a kid, Trish. They're all crazy. I was totally nuts. Had one hell of a death wish. Good thing the only things that could kill me were demons, and I wanted to kill them more than I wanted to die." Still that amused detachment. He turned back to Sparda. "When you disappeared, you doomed her, you know. She protected us for six years. I don't think anyone else could have done that."

Sparda nodded again.

"At least you have good taste. How awake are you? Never mind, you can't talk. Did you catch what I said to Trish after Mundus roasted Griffon?"

He shook his head.

"'My mother always said my father was a man who fought for the weak.' She always loved you, was always telling us about how great you were. About ten years ago I wished she hadn't. If Vergil hadn't idolized you, wanted to be just like you he wouldn't be in Mundus' hands now, you know. I used to think it was all your fault."

It was all his fault. He nodded again.

"What am I saying, this is my one chance to talk to you until I get together about an unbelievable amount of red orbs. And I'm not sure how I'm going to substitute for the human sacrifice, and I'm wasting it telling you what an _idiot_ I was. I don't hate you anymore."

_Love. Guilt. Apology. _Sparda sent those as clearly as he could and the last of the orbs disappeared.

He felt a rough sense of _love_, back, as though someone who had never been taught a language was trying to sound out a word, and then he slept deeply again.


	20. Beryl: Lodestone

_Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Devil May Cry. _

_I finally re-read the second novel. There's a lot of stuff in here that was clearly written to go with whatever they told him the future plot of DMC was going to be: the author of it was given information by the DMC2 team, which explains why it sucks. I'm hoping this info isn't still what they're planning. _

_Beyond that, I really love it. Beryl is a cool character, it shows that the Sparda legend is very well known, it talks about the hunter community, it confirms (or at least agrees with) a lot of my theories about demons… _

_-_

Beryl thanked God that Enzo had picked them up and Dante wasn't driving. He probably drove much more sanely while not pursuing flying demons like the one the Beastheads had turned Ducas into, but she'd come close to falling off his motorcycle so many times during that chase she never, ever, wanted to be in any vehicle he was in control of ever again.

Not that she was _afraid _of falling, of course not. She was a devil hunter, they laughed at things like that. She knew how to fall and her armor would protect her.

Or, rather, she had been a devil hunter. Though Dante had clearly not taken her claim that she was seriously, except when he had been challenging her to fight instead of lie down and die.

The Beastheads was destroyed, her father was avenged: it was over.

"Dante, you're going to get paid for this extra help, right?" Enzo was asking.

Dante just shrugged.

Enzo sighed. "Dante…"

"Please, I get enough of that from Trish."

"Trish's the blonde bombshell, right? Where is she?"

Dante looked away, face revealing his annoyance.

"I get it, I get it, you don't want to talk about it."

Blonde bombshell? The woman that had been in charge of the army in the other world? Dante knew her in this world? And she nagged him, or had used to nag him, about money? So she was good in this world? Why wouldn't Dante talk about it?

Beryl told herself firmly to mind her own business. Dante could handle himself: he was the son of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda and he had defeated Mundus twice. She was in the presence of a living legend, and she was a civilian now.

They pulled up to Dante's building.

The last time Beryl had been here she had pegged it for a bachelor pad. Most mercenaries, the ones that had chosen to follow Dante and become devil hunters especially, kept things organized: you never knew when you might need to grab a weapon in a hurry.

Dante's office was clearly put together haphazardly, whatever he felt like putting there.

She hadn't been told she could go in the rest of the complex, though. Who knew what things were like back there.

Enzo pulled up and dropped them off. "See you next time you need an agent for a bit! I'm telling you Dante, you need to branch out and work with me more!"

"I only take jobs with demons, Enzo. I've been telling you that how many years now?" Dante waved him off. "Try to stay on one piece, okay? And lay off the booze, we don't all have immortal livers."

"Hey, drinking in bars is where we pick up all our information! How's an informant supposed to make money without drinking?" Enzo waved goodbye.

Dante waved once as he drove away, then he pushed through the doors, waving for Beryl to follow him. "Have you got someplace to go? The guest bedroom's free." He had a guest bedroom?

"My car's here, I can drive home," she told him.

"How far away is it?" he asked.

Several states. "I'm not sure exactly."

He shook his head. "No, you're staying here overnight."

The devil hunter her would have said who died and made you the boss of me? But Sparda had, and she was tired. Still, she wanted to go home. It felt like there was a pull on her, like a compass, a pull towards home, safety, the end of this long nightmare. "Why?"

"You just had the fights of your life and then you helped me destroy that complex." He frowned. "I'll have to have Nevan track down the others…" Who was Nevan? "Anyways, you're only human. You're about to crash soon despite the spells and drugs you've got going, and it's going to be bad. Not to mention that the other world's Earth was corrupted. That means you were bathed in demon energy for days, and you know despite the charms you've got that's not good for the system. Sorry, but you aren't up to operating heavy machinery." His lips twisted in some private joke. "You're staying here, sleeping for at least twelve hours, and then you can hit the road."

He was making sense. The spells that protected hunters against the poisonous effects of demon power were like sunblock, they only enhanced the natural resistance. Stuff still got through, and they weren't meant to work for days. Too much demon energy in your system meant cancer _if_ you were lucky. It was worse than radiation. Radiation didn't turn you into a megalomaniacal psychopath. "Thank you." She gave him a girlish innocent smile.

"You remind me of some people," he said at that.

"I hope they're good people."

"Yeah, some of the best. But you act all, all little girl." He laughed. "Man, I was shocked when you kissed me on the cheek out of nowhere. I can't think of anyone but those two that would dare to do that."

"Sorry if it offended you."

"Nah, it was kind of funny." He was smiling. "I like you. I think you've got what it takes to be a devil hunter despite me ragging on you. You're also reminding me of someone else."

"Another devil hunter?" She supposed this was one hell of a compliment. Getting recognized as a devil hunter by the person who had created the movement, not to mention the son of the one who stood against a devil for humanity's sake and won.

"Yeah, only she started doing it before it became trendy." He shook his head. "Sorry about insulting your competence at the beginning, I thought you were an amateur. Of course, she was kind of an amateur back then, but she did it."

"Who?"

"Her name's Lady. Her father killed her mother, she decided to avenge her, tracked him all the way to Temen ni Gru and survived the tower. She's one of the best there is now, bar me, of course."

"Temen ni Gru?" Only she didn't want to hear that she had a great future as a devil hunter. She wanted a great future as a normal person.

"Big huge tower that opened a portal to the demon world," he explained. "It's personal for you, isn't it?"

She nodded. "My mother died, and then my father became obsessed with raising her from the dead. He studied the occult, looking for something that would give him the power to do so, and he found the Beastheads.

"Why did you say the thing was connected to my father?" Dante asked her. "I mean, he wasn't involved with every single magic thingy from the war. It was a big damn war."

"Because the man who sold it to him told him it had been stolen from Sparda's collection after he died."

Dante's eyes narrowed. "_Damn it._" He looked like a real devil then, like she had realized he was after he had shot all those possessed soldiers in the head. She'd thought they were living people instead of corpses and taken him for a stone-cold killer. "So this is kind of my fault. Who'd he get it from? I'm trying to find all the dealers. Some really nasty stuff's still missing."

"He got it when I was a kid, years ago, from a man called Arkham."

"Arkham?" Dante laughed. "Small world. That was Lady's father. Well, at least I already got him. Well, she finished him off."

Thank goodness. Beryl was relieved. After Dante had reminded her of the dealer she had felt the sinking feeling she would have to track Arkham down for her vengeance to be complete, that it wasn't over. But he was already dead. "Could you thank Lady for me?"

"Sure." He nodded. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I have a talisman for that," she assured him.

"It's still not real food. Food is one of the reasons to live," he told her. "Lady had the same problem, she didn't know how to enjoy the little things afterwards. Ice cream and pizza can make the world seem like a much better place. Come on." He stood as gracefully as he had sat and headed for a door.

Well, ice cream and pizza sounded… like normal junk food. There hadn't been much but meat in the other world. She hadn't wanted to ask what it was from but Shadow had seen her expression and been rather insulted she had suspected it was human flesh. She'd thought that was the usual diet of demons and thought that Dante would eat it too.

She followed him and remembered that in the other world, his mother had been human. So, yeah, he was human as much as he was a demon.

Chen wasn't the only human to try to become a demon, she had heard tons of stories on the grapevine. They all ended up like him: they might start out just wanting to live a little longer, but they ended up mass murderers without a trace of guilt.

Maybe Dante was… well, he was still a killer, but then so were a lot of humans. She was one, though not of humans, which made the others laugh at her, tell her she was too soft to succeed. Well, she'd won, and then helped Dante, the greatest of them all win. She was part of a legend, but she didn't want to be remembered.

The kitchen was actually clean, which shocked her. Did he hire a cleaning service? She couldn't imagine him mopping the floor. There was a huge freezer.

Dante was frowning at the refrigerator. "Can't give you leftover pizza for your victory meal. Steak?"

Of course he had meat. "That's fine."

She watched when he opened the huge, walk-in freezer. Tons of meat. And ice cream. And other things. He picked out a few steaks and put them on the counter. "How do you want yours done?"

"Medium rare."

He nodded. "Okay. Come on," he motioned her out of the kitchen. "They'll be ready in awhile."

Magic? So that was why the kitchen was so clean.

They went back to the definitely-not-clean office.

"Thanks. I'll put some money in the rest of your payment for this," she assured him.

He waved it off. "Hey, like you said, this was just finishing the job you already paid me for."

"But?"

"I decided to get involved on my own. You don't own me anything."

But he'd almost died, and it was because of the talisman that was her duty. If she'd stopped it sooner, if she'd been strong enough to not need his help, if she was a real devil hunter…

At least she'd had a part in helping him win. Without that she knew it would nag at her the rest of her life. Like Lady had finished off her father.

"It's a good thing I went with you, otherwise I wouldn't have found out about Chen until he'd gotten a lot tougher." He seemed somewhat angry. "Stealing one of my father's swords, becoming him and taking his power… Arkham did it first. Geez, can't people come up with their own evil plans?" He shook his head. "I don't know how Pops could stand two thousand years of the same damn thing over and over. People never learn. No one, ever, has managed to become a devil on their own without going nuts and biting it, and they _still_ keep trying." He laughed. "Well, it pays the bills, and it's better than a real job."

Maybe for him. She'd spent so much money on her quest, and she couldn't wait to… she didn't even have a high school diploma, she'd abandoned her normal life so young. What was she going to do? She'd lost years! It was worth it, but… her parents would have wanted her to have a happy, normal life. How was she going to do that after all she'd seen, all the things she knew were out there, all the years lost. What would she say if people asked her what she had been doing all those years? She couldn't exactly tell the truth! The mercenary community might know all about demons, but normal people… she didn't want them to know.

"Hey, are you alright?" Dante asked her.

"I'm fine." Another of her smiles.

He snorted. "Don't try that snow job on me, I invented it. Though I used to do devilishly handsome grins and some snappy liners instead of the innocent look." He flashed one at her now.

"I'll be fine."

"Yeah, eventually. Life goes on and all that. It's still going to hurt, though. Family always will. But you'll deal. You're tough enough, devil hunter." He shrugged.

He seemed like he knew what he was talking about. Sparda was dead, his mother was too probably. How had they died? She couldn't imagine the legendary dark knight dying peacefully in bed after two thousand… how old was Dante? No, he had said Sparda had been dealing with human plots for two thousand years. So he'd died recently.

At least he hadn't been killed by humans, not in this universe. She'd never been so ashamed of her species as when she heard that. In the other world, demons were the good ones, the ones fighting to save humanity, while humans did things like that.

She looked at Dante and wondered how different that was from this world.

Here she was. She was tough, she'd survived as a devil hunter for years. She could do a lot of good before she finally died.

She wasn't a legend, she wasn't half demon.

"Thank you," and she grinned again: he grinned back. "You're right, money wouldn't repay you." She took the gun off her back, the one she had acquired enhanced bullets for in the other realm. "Since I didn't let you know about what they were doing for me there so you could get in on it, I think I should give you this so you have a weapon with that capability."

He stepped forward and took it. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sure." I won't need it anymore.

Oh God, she hoped not.

The things keeping her awake were wearing off: she wanted food and that bed now. Now.

He seemed to understand why she was giving it to him. "Thanks, Beryl." As he put it over on his desk she heard him mutter "Déjà vu," and chuckle. "The food should be ready now." He went into the kitchen and came out with two trays, one in each hand, having pushed the door open with his foot. He handed her a tray and they sat down.

Food, yes, food. For awhile they were occupied with eating, and Beryl realized that the steak, potatoes and beer were good. Even the broccoli was good. How long had it been since she'd simply enjoyed eating? She remembered doing so as a child, but… it had all been gulped down like rations.

She'd maintained the vivacious, childlike front because you couldn't appear weak, but inside…

She wanted to meet this Lady, she wondered if someone out there would understand. No, Dante seemed to understand about the fakeness of sweet smiles, about the driving force of what you had to do, of vengeance, of… had his fight against Mundus been vengeance? In the other world, Mundus had killed the equivalent of his brother. Had that happened here?

She realized that Mundus had probably killed his entire family. An orphan, like her.

She, when she left on her quest, abandoning her life, had at least found a community to fit into, the mercenaries that were becoming devil hunters. Dante had shown them the way. Beryl wasn't the only one among them that wanted to get strong because of what was out there in the night.

Dante had said he didn't care what happened to her while the Beastheads held her in its jaws. Did he care about other people?

She shouldn't try to understand him, she doubted she could, and tomorrow she would be gone.

There was a noise somewhere nearby, a canine roar that reminded her too much of the Beastheads, and she whirled, dropping her tray and looked at the wall in the direction it had come. "What was that?"

Dante laughed at her reaction. "Part of the security system. You're hair trigger, aren't you?"

She blushed and started to pick up the tray and its contents. "I'll go get a paper towel." Some of the food had still been on the tray: there were gravy, mashed potato and beer bits on the floor.

"Don't bother, like you just heard I've got a dog. Dogs are good like that." Again, something that seemed funny that she just didn't get.

She found her eyelids drooping after she dropped down onto the couch. Yes, they'd worn off. "Ready for bed?" Dante questioned her.

The sound of that made her think of sex, and no way, not with a devil. Though she shouldn't think that about Sparda's son. "Where's the guest room?" she asked, with a slight emphasis on guest room.

"Through here." He got up to show her the way.

She tried to stand, but she felt rooted to the couch. When she did get up, her head felt woozy: head rush. She wobbled slightly, and was about to fall when his arm braced her. She was so out of it she didn't even notice she hadn't heard him move from where he had been holding the door open.

"Thank you." She seemed to be saying that a lot.

"No problem." His hand on her arm held her steady until they were in the room.

Yes, nice bed in a room that was small but _private. _She didn't feel up to sex even if she'd been willing. She definitely didn't feel up to taking off her battle gear. She just collapsed on the bed. Nice, soft, and worth walking all the way from the couch.

"Night." Dante shut the door.

She thought she mumbled a response but the next thing she knew it was morning and there was yelling.

"You've got a lot of damn nerve!" Dante's voice. "Coming back here after running off like that without even a damn note! You could have been dead, you idiot! What if you'd gotten ambushed!"

"I can handle myself just fine!" A female voice, just as loud.

"Oh yeah? And who was it that got crucified?"

"Those manacles were open, you idiot! How do you think I got out of them to save your damn ass?"

"You ran off with the Sparda and the amulet! What the hell was I supposed to think!"

"You thought…" There was a sound like someone being electrocuted. "You actually thought I'd gone back to Mundus!"

"No! I thought that since you _wouldn't_ that the only reason you'd disappear with those was that you'd been killed and someone had taken them from you! What in the name of my fucking father were you thinking!" 

"Dante…" the anger went out of the female voice as Beryl headed downstairs, gun ready. She kicked open the door to find Dante glaring at a woman who was clearly the real world version of the commander of Mundus' armies, and her arms were crackling with lightening."

Beryl shot, wishing she had her main gun back: it was lying in the wreckage of the desk apparently unharmed.

"Ow! The hell?" The woman seemed unharmed, but was glaring at her.

"Beryl, stay out of this," Dante told her, and turned back to the woman.

"And who is this?" Trish pointed at Beryl like she was some floozy the cat dragged in.

"This is Beryl, a devil hunter," if Dante had joked and said she was one of his conquests she would have shot him, as her brain was failing to turn up any appropriate one-liners. The movies made snappy patter look so easy. "And no changing the subject. Why the hell did you run off like that?"

"I just needed some space, Dante!"

"Why the hell didn't you leave a note!"

"Because you would have come chasing me!"

"Not if you'd given me a good reason to leave! Damn it, Trish!"

"I told you, I needed to deal with something!"

"Why couldn't you just talk with me?"

"Because you're the fucking problem! I'm not who you want me to be!" The demon, who Beryl now knew was called Trish, pointed at herself. "I'm not your mother, you said it yourself! I'm my own person, Dante, quit trying to stuff me into that box!"

His mother? Huh?

Dante seemed to remember Beryl was here. "Beryl, you might want to get out of here while your truck's still in one peace."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Trish asked, hands on her hips.

"It means that you have damn bad aim and don't pay attention to what you damage!"

"Like you're one to talk!"

Beryl headed for the door. She did not want to get involved in what seemed like a family squabble between the son of Sparda and whoever Trish was. "Bye, Dante." She waved when she was at the door.

He interrupted Trish to answer, "See you, Beryl!" With his patented smile.

"Don't you dare interrupt me when I'm talking to you! Ooooh," Trish growled in frustration, drawing her sword.

The door closed as Beryl heard a clash of two blades meeting.

She got in her car and drove home. And while she didn't drive like Dante (she wasn't a bat out of hell), she got out of that area damn fast.

Then realized she had no idea what highways led back to where she had grown up and stopped at a gas station to buy a map.


	21. Lucia: Valkyrie

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_And now we get to the one DMC game I have actually managed to play. Well, I did Missions 1-9 of Dante's disc on normal mode. With massive abuse of Vital Stars and almost no use of the dodge button. I've played three other games in my life, did not get at all far in any of them, and sucked at them, but before DMC2 I hadn't played anything in years. Why oh why did I get hooked on a game? _

_I was disappointed by the minimal cutscenes because I felt that if I was going to get my butt kicked by an Orangguerra I at least wanted some plot out of it. Besides that, I like Lucia. _

_To clear up a misconception: Lucia's accent is not French. According to the game booklet Vie du Marli was settled by religious refugees (devil worshippers) from the Middle East who came along Viking routes. There's no indication they were a French colony later: Arius is the first one to exploit the island's resources so it's pretty clear the Guardians were able to fend off imperialists. So nor is she a native speaker of English, as they weren't colonized by them either. So her stilted language, accent, and awkwardness are natural. So don't mock her accent unless you can speak a second language without an accent. I for one know my Spanish is horrible. _

_I actually liked Dante, Arius, Lucia and Matier in the early cutscenes. It was a disappointment to see some of the later ones and realize that they seriously needed different voice actors for Dante and Arius. Especially Arius._

_That the game is easy I can attest. After all, I got that far on my first try. Combos? I didn't even master the dodge button. _

_All in all, it was a nice experience for a beginner and I now want to play the rest of the games. As Sparda and Trish. Who has the Sparda. _

_According to a Yahoo search, Ha Konr is Norse for High King._

_-_

Lucia stood in front of the desk, half-sitting on it, idly tossing the coin, catching it, and tossing it again. She wouldn't feel right sitting in Dante's chair.

After Dante had gone into the demon world Lucia had been busy mopping up the demons. Then Dante's partner Trish had arrived, highly irritated that Dante had gone to the demon world without her. Matier had told Lucia that she had done enough of the work and that she should go to Dante's shop to wait for him and deliver Matier's message and the payment. Arius' business had collapsed and the government of Vie du Marli had seized his properties on the island as recompense for his terrorist actions against the island as part of his goal to gain access to the resources in the island's interior. Much of that money had been given to Matier, head of the Guardian clan. The islanders, unlike the rest of the world, knew who kept them safe and were grateful.

However it had not been the Protector who had truly saved the island, even though she had finished off Arius. Dante must have left him alive for her. So Dante would be paid in better coin than a story he already knew. Lucia was very glad: she owed him much, more than she would ever be able to repay.

He, as much as Matier, had given her faith that she was not only Arius' creation, but a human, with no need to die to prove it. He had saved her so many times.

So she waited for him here at his shop, and helped out his servants.

Nevan was busy with business matters and the other demons were much less able to function in the world of humans. There had been one, Alastor, but he had left and not come back. His sword was still here, but it was cold and dead. Lucia did not know why. If she were only a demon, she would be happy to serve Dante.

The Son of Sparda was a god worthy of worship, just like his father.

It was strange that he had a shop and demanded payment. The Guardians were just… given money, tithes, they did not ask for it. But then, Dante had not asked money of them. She didn't understand him. She wanted to understand him.

She heard an engine outside the shop. She forgot all about the coin and ran to the door. Dante was here, finally! He seemed not to notice her, heading right for his desk and flinging himself down into the chair with a weary sigh. Only when he was settled did he look at her. "Lucia? What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you this." She took out the check and handed it to him. Or tried to.

Dante, realizing what it was, waved it off. "I did the job for the story."

"But you already knew the story."

"I know."

"Matier said you must take it. After all you and your father have done for us…"

"Matier needs the money more than I do. The Guardian Clan used to be powerful. Since Mundus revived between his demons and sorcerers like Arius there are very few of you left. You should use that money to rebuild."

"But we owe you."

"Look, it's better for me if you're strong. If you stop them, I don't have to."

"But we could not stop Arius without you. You are the strongest, Son…"

"I know, I'm the strongest devil hunter on the face of the planet. Sparda's son, the guy who stopped Mundus, I _know._" His eyes were weary. "You can't always count on me. You need to get stronger, Lucia, because one of these days I'm not going to be there."

"But Sparda lived for millennia and you are a half blood. You should live at least a millennium." Lucia didn't understand.

He waved it off. "Sure, I'm powerful. I'm good. Damn good. But I can't be in two places at once." He smiled at that, some private joke.

"I am sorry. If I had been stronger Matier would have not needed to call upon you. That was why I was so angry when we first met. I felt that…" she trailed off, ashamed of herself.

"You felt that it was your family matter." He understood even though she didn't.

"I should have put my personal feelings aside." One more sign that she was not worthy to be the Protector.

He snorted. "Lucia, your feelings are important. They make you stronger. Devils are the ones that never cry, and it's why humans can fight them."

"I felt… when I faced Arius, he, he tried to tell me I was nothing, but you said… thank you." She bowed slightly, deep respect.

"You're welcome."

"What you said, about every hero having a weakness, you…" she didn't want to tell him he was wrong. "I am very glad you have that weakness. Even though saving me meant the ritual was activated. And you used the false coin so I did not go to my death."

"So you don't want to die anymore?"

"No. I, I believed you, and Matier. She is not my mother but she chose to be my mother. It would make her sad."

He nodded, looking at a photograph on his desk. "The power of a mother's love."

"Excuse me?" That did not seem like something he would say.

He turned around the photograph so she could see it. It was of a woman who looked oddly like Trish. "My mother. She's why I have that weakness. I couldn't save her, so instead I'm obsessive about saving people like her."

"Like her?"

"Strong women." He shrugged. "People like Arius aren't worth a damn. What matters are the people who care about you. They're the ones who know you, know what you are, and don't care because they know you, know you're not a monster. Listen to Matier, Lucia."

"When she talked to me, I… I did not truly listen. I believed you because your job was hunting devils. I asked you to kill me and you stopped because you had proof I was not a monster." Lucia hung her head. "I should not have let Arius affect me. I was like a child."

"Lucia, somebody told you your whole life was a lie. They were wrong, but I can see how that would get to you. What matters is that you put it behind you and came through in the end. You did your job. I assume he's dead."

"Yes. I killed him myself." She nodded.

"Good. Anyways, you should talk to Trish. She was created by Mundus."

"By… Mundus?" The dark emperor, who had killed almost all the good gods and tried to conquer humanity as well? Sparda's sworn enemy?

"He used her to get to me. She did a pretty good job. But in the end… it's not what you are that matters, it's who you choose to be. And you're Matier's daughter."

"And you are Sparda's son. I am sure he would be very proud of you."

He started laughing.

"What… why are you laughing?" Had she said something stupid and embarrassed herself again? She wanted Dante to think well of her. He had given her a reason to live.

"Lucia, I used to hate my dad. I was _Eva's _son, not Sparda's son. All this," he pointed around him at the shop, "Is because I wanted to be like her, not like him. My mother was a hunter too."

"I know, Matier told me. She said she married your parents and she was very impressed with the woman who won Sparda when so many others had tried." Matier had known Sparda. Lucia had seen old regret in her eyes when she talked about him. The same regret Lucia would have.

Lucia knew Dante would never look at her that way. But she didn't want anyone else to look at her that way, not after finding that Arius had created her… and knowing what he had created her for. But Dante was… She was just a child next to him.

"I used to think I was a monster too. She's the only person who knew who didn't think I was, even if they tried to think of me as a human. She told me that my father was a man who fought for the weak. That I should be proud of who and what I was. It took me a while to listen to her though. If I had sooner… If I'd been stronger when we were attacked, she might have lived." He turned the photograph around so he could look at it. "So listen to your mother, Lucia."

"I know that I am a person and not just Chi because she took me in as her daughter and heir. Matier made me who I am, the Protector, even though I am still not sure I am worthy. But she tells me I am, so I will try, even though I do not have the blood of the devils." She was amazed that Dante was telling her all this. He was doing it to help her. She couldn't help but feel touched that he, the great Son of Sparda, thought she was worth the effort. She wanted to live up to his expectations of her as much as she desperately wanted to live up to Matier's.

And she had only seen him a few times, as their paths crossed while they fought Arius and retrieved the Arcana! He was truly a god, such an amazing man with such presence! A true king.

He was also very handsome. Matier said that Sparda had been the same way.

"That's good," Dante told her approvingly. "You're being a lot less bullheaded about it than I was. Took me years to quit…" He suddenly seemed weary again.

"What is wrong?" She hoped he did not think her presumptuous for asking.

"Nothing."

"Please. You have helped me so much, if there is anything I can do I will." She didn't want to seem to pry.

"There's nothing you can do."

"Oh." She tried to think of something else to say. "I am sorry it took you so long to get home. You might have been trapped."

He laughed. "I guess I'm going to have to talk about it. I didn't have any problems getting back. I went looking for someone."

"Someone in the demon world? Sparda?" No one knew how or why he had suddenly disappeared all those years ago.

"No." He shook his head. "Already found Father. Have you met Trish? He's her devil arm."

"The large flesh and bone sword?"

"Yeah, that's him. I was looking for my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Never heard of him, have you?" He looked slightly annoyed.

"I am afraid no." She shook her head.

"I'm not surprised. Just like practically no one knows who my Mother was. What, do they think I sprung from his god-from his forehead? My brother was the _evil _twin."

"Evil?"

"He raised Temen ni Gru, trying to get his hands on Father's power. Only I stopped him from getting it and he decided to dive into hell. I don't know exactly what happened. But eventually Mundus got his hands on him."

"Mundus… I am so sorry!" What Mundus would have done to a Son of Sparda did not bear thinking about!

"Well, he's still alive. Or he _was_, a couple years ago. Mundus used him as well as Trish to attack me. Only thing is, when I defeated him he disappeared. He might be dead. But I don't think so."

Lucia had heard legend upon legend of the cruelty of Mundus. So she shook her head.

"So every time I get a chance to get into the Underworld I go looking for him. No luck this time either."

"You spent a week searching?" He must truly care for his brother. The longer you stayed the less chance of returning, the legends claimed. If he were not Dante he would have gotten lost, gotten eaten by something stronger…

"Yeah. I should have spent more, but I had to worry about somebody bringing about the apocalypse while I was gone. Anything big happen?"

Lucia shook her head. "There have been a few jobs. I took them for you."

"Great, thanks."

"I'm not going to give up on finding my brother. Mundus turned him into a dark knight and sent him to kill me, but he didn't. He stopped attacking me even though it caused him a lot of pain instead of finishing me off, and he dropped his half of the amulet when he disappeared. My brother is still out there, and I'm not giving up on him." Determination, and Lucia knew he would find his brother someday.

"The Secretaries… they were made with me, only I was a defect. Matier says that they are my sisters and we must try to help them become human. Trish and I captured a few, but they only sit in the cage now and try to attack through the bars. They are like animals!"

"Or like weak demons."

"If Matier had not saved me I would have been destroyed or become one of them. Arius tried to make me become one of them. He told me my name was Chi, not Lucia."

"You are whoever you decide to be. Your name is what you answer to, not what they decide to call you. I've got another friend named Lady you should talk to."

"I would like to meet this friend." Someone worthy of being counted as a friend by Dante.

"I met her the same night I lost my brother. Funny. Anyways, I learned a lot that night." He dug in a drawer for a bottle and took a drink from it. "You can decide your own destiny, you're not foredoomed by who your father is. Although you have to fight to make it that way. Nothing's easy, Lucia. But you've got Matier."

Dante had lost his mother and father at young ages and been on his own. He had refused to come to Vie du Marli, Matier had not said why. Because he did not want to be trained as a Guardian?

The outlanders, corrupted by the false faith of the Christians, who worshipped a god that did not exist, called the gods devils in their language and held that it was a shame instead of a great honor to be descended from them.

Lucia had been very proud to have diving blood in her veins and be Matier's daughter. It seemed that Dante, son of a god, had not been proud of being a demi-god. No, he had defeated the Dark Emperor and now the Despair Embodied. He was a true god despite his human heritage. If he came to Vie du Marli, he would be worshipped as he deserved.

The money was a small sacrifice, only his due.

Dante looked around. "Where's Trish?"

"She is on Vie du Marli. She went there to help kill the last of the demons," Lucia informed him.

"She's going to be ticked at me about having to do the scutwork."

Lucia would be honored to be Dante's partner. "I should have done the cleaning up, it is my duty, but Matier sent me to greet you. Please, you must take the money."

He shook his head. "It's not about money, and you need it more than I do."

"It is to protect." She understood why one fought. "And you deserve it. Please."

"I once would have asked if you were crazy, and said it was all about killing demons. But then, back then I was crazy, and proud of it." Memories. "No means no. And if you've been minding the shop that's payback enough. I got something out of it too."

"But you did not find your brother. And I have done very little here. Only a few missions."

"But I got the chance to look. At least I know a few places where he's _not_. I'll take what I can get, and then take more." He smiled, the smile of the powerful. "And those _few _missions mean people are alive who would have died. That's not something small, Lucia."

The phone rang. Dante kicked the table and the receiver sprang into his hand, all without him looking away from Lucia. "Devil May Cry." A pause. "Got it. Where?" Dante listened. "Good. Be there in five." The phone was tossed back. "Got a job. Want to come?"

"Yes, please. It would be an honor to fight beside you." She bowed again.

He laughed. "It took you long enough to stop calling me Son of Sparda. Don't start calling me Sir Dante. I'm not exactly formal." He got up.

"But you are a dark knight, like Sparda. You defeated the Dark Emperor and are the rightful Ha Konr… King of Hell." That was how you would say it in English, right?

He blinked. "Say what?"

"You triumphed over the former ruler of the demon world and so you have the right to his power. How do you say… might is right?"

"Wait a minute. Sparda beat him. So why wasn't Sparda the King of Hell?"

"He decided to stay on Earth to protect the humans instead of taking his rightful place," Lucia explained.

"Probably they wouldn't have liked being ruled by a traitor… so the rightful king is whoever killed Father."

"But no one knows who defeated him, if he _was _defeated. Unless you know what happened to him?" Not even Matier knew.

Dante shook his head. "No idea. Mother died not knowing… anyways, I'm not going to be some king. I'm not a god, either."

"Not the way the outlanders say it, but to us you are a god. A very good god, who protects us and asks for nothing in return." Lucia bowed again.

Dante just looked at her, then turned away. "I don't want anyone worshipping me."

"That is what Sparda said as well, according to Matier."

"Let's get going. I'll put the sidecar on the motorcycle."

"There is no need, I can run alongside with the power of the Quick Heart."

Dante looked at her with what someone else would have called an "oh shit" expression. "Lucia, tell me you haven't been running through Metropolis devil triggered."

She shook her head. "I have been on five jobs. Nevan took me to two and a very nice policeman drove me to the rest when I said I did not have a car." Or the keys to Dante's motorcycle.

Phew. "We'll take the sidecar. But for future reference, Lucia, don't devil trigger in front of people outside of Vie du Marli. The fact you look sort of like an angel will just make it worse."

She winced. "Matier told me that as well. Outlanders are…" Dante was technically an outlander. If he had been raised on the island he would not have thought himself _less_ than humans. "We must keep things secret from them." Or there would be more of the massacres her people had fled to Vie du Marli to escape.

"Right. People are better off not knowing demons exist. They'd just be afraid and that just makes them more appetizing."

Lucia frowned as she followed him outside. The gods and their servants knew the hearts of man, and dark ones would be attracted by dark emotions as the good gods gained power from the love their worshippers had for them, but "Our people are not afraid."

Dante was busy attaching the sidecar to the motorcycle. "Yeah, but your people know not all devils are evil. Most people think about Mundus."

"That was why they hunted our people, those who still served the gods, because the ignorant," that was a polite way of putting it, "made no distinction between Mundus and the gods who fought him. Except for Sparda."

"A lot of the people who know he existed don't even like him."

"What? But he saved humanity!" Lucia was shocked.

"Yeah, but first he killed a lot of people. And you know what they say, if you're a traitor once you can do it again. A lot of people think he didn't die but went back home to report or something." Dante snorted. "Some people think he decided to run someplace to hide because Mundus was about to revive. That he had kids so we would kill Mundus for him."

"How can they even think such things!" Now she was outraged.

"Because we scare them. We're stronger, faster, smarter, and the underworld tried to conquer humanity once already. If Mundus hadn't been fighting a war on two fronts, humans and the devils who were still resisting his takeover of their realm, even Sparda wouldn't have been able to toss him off. Humans think about imperialism, about how they took over weaker lands and did horrible things to the inhabitants because they were of different races. Practically every nation that could took a piece of the pie. And if civilized _humans_ do stuff like that, what about demons? Since they're evil incarnate and all of that."

Lucia nodded. Vie du Marli knew about imperialism: the Spanish had tried to conquer them several times, wanting to kill the devils, convert the heathens, and gain access to the riches of the island. The Guardians had been able to fight them off easily, but many refugees had come from the tribes of the mainland of South America, telling stories of horrible massacres and inhumane slavery.

"But you would not hurt a human! Nor would I."

"You wouldn't. Remember? When you found out and asked me to kill you, the big thing you were scared of was attacking people. You cared more about that than your own identity."

"I did?"

"You're really serious about helping people. You're a real Protector. And that's why I had to save you even though it put the world in danger." He started the motorcycle. "Now come on, we've got some demons to kill."

"Thank you, Dante." Even if he would never love her, he thought well of her, and that gave her the pride Arius had tried so hard to destroy.


	22. Matier: High Priestess

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. Capcom does. _

_Ah, Matier. I love DMC. All the women are badass. "My fandom has badass chicks" indeed. Of course, we don't see Matier fight, but it's implied that a few centuries ago she was to Sparda what Lucia is to Dante, the local helper. _

_And, well, there's no reason _not_ to think the Arcana have powers besides the lock and key thing that just aren't used in the game._

_-_

"Ah, Son of Sparda, you have come." The Arcana Bastone, Arcana of fire, served Matier as a walking stick again, restored to its place at her back, as secure there as the others were in their temples. "Come in and sit down, young man, and I shall tell you that story." She turned to walk into her new home, not really using the Arcana. She only really needed it to help her stand up again after she sat down.

She wasn't as young as she once was, but that was no reason for Lucia to panic over such a small thing as their house blowing up with her in it. She had been in the tunnel.

Really, it took Arius long enough to find her house. If she had been young again… Lucia was a very good girl, but inexperienced. A few decades would change that. She learned quickly.

She had learned much from the son of Sparda. She had come back with him from America where he kept his shop. He had given her much to think about, Matier could tell.

"That's not why I came. I came to give you back this." He held out a piece of paper. Ah, the check.

"Ah, Son of Sparda, you are much like your father." Matier pushed the door open and held it open for him. He followed her. The boy had respect for his elders. A very polite young man.

Not that the young men of the Guardian Clan were not polite. They survived to adulthood in these dangerous times by training hard and listening to their elders.

"I can't accept this. The deal was if I succeeded in defeating Arius you'd tell me a story about my father. I didn't ask for money."

"Neither did he, son of Sparda."

"My name is Dante."

"Lucia?" Matier called out.

"Yes, Matier?" Lucia came in the main room before responding.

"Could you be a dear and bring the young man and I some coffee?"

"Yes, Matier." She hurried to the kitchen.

"Young man?" An eyebrow had rose.

"Ah, you would be thirty-one now?" It seemed like only yesterday she had married his parents.

It wouldn't have done for the one performing the ceremony, a venerable old woman, to cry at the wedding. But it seemed like only yesterday she had been a young girl, so much like Lucia, looking up to a brave and powerful dark knight.

"Thirty-two."

"Ah." She nodded. "I call everyone younger than me 'young man,' son of Sparda." She carefully sat down.

"How old are you, anyway?"

She laughed once. "I understand that among outlanders it is rude to ask a woman her name. Here, age comes with respect. It takes skill and power to survive so many years. I am four hundred and fifteen, son of Sparda."

"That old?"

"You are surprised? Your father was at least two millennia old. I do not know his true age. We of the Guardian Clan carry the blood of the devils. We are proud of our heritage."

"Proud?"

"My ancestors fought beside Sparda for this world, and now guard this island against the greed of man for the demon power. My own grandmother was killed by your father, son of Sparda, before he decided to aid the cause of humanity. But that is not the story I promised you." She shifted in her chair to get comfortable.

"I'm sorry."

"Why should you be sorry? It was a death in battle, and your father redeemed his own sins. He was truly worthy to be called a god." She shook her head. "Yet he refused to be worshipped."

He held out the check to her again. "I don't want that either. Sparda was my father, and I want to hear your story. But I'm nothing more than a part-blood like you."

"No, you are more than I." She shook her head. "The blood is watered down now. I am no more than three parts in sixteen: many are less. You defeated Mundus, as did your father, Son of Sparda. You came to our aid and defeated the sorcerer and the angry god, as did he. You are worthy of his legacy. You are a god, and as the High Priestess of Vie du Marli I must ask you for yet another favor."

"What?"

"That you do not reject the honor we give you. That you do not shame us by rejecting our gratitude. Take the money, son of Sparda. It is only money." She waved a hand dismissively.

"Money is bombs, bullets, new houses…" he replied.

She held up her hand to stop him. "It is our offering to you."

"You don't have to buy my favor." He looked disgusted by the idea.

"If we had to, we would do so. But we do not have to. That is why we honor you. Let me tell you my story, Son of Sparda."

Such a stubborn boy. Raised among the outlanders. After his mother's death she had sent searchers to try to find him or his brother if they had survived (only Eva's body was found), but they found nothing. Clever boys, to hide so well. Only she wished they had not.

When they were found as adults, both he and his brother had refused to come. She had sighed, receiving the reports of the ones she had sent to meet him. She had been needed too much to leave the island, she might not be a fighter anymore but she was still the general.

She should have gone.

"How do outlanders tell old tales of magic and other things they do not think exist? Yes, once upon a time." She nodded to herself, eyes focused on a memory. "Once upon a time there was a princess who was the most desired girl in all the land. She was young, beautiful and strong. She could outrun, outswim, and outfight all the young men that tried for her hand. Not only that, but the man who married her would inherit all her father's lands and duties. But the princess was vain, and said that only a man who could defeat her could win her hand."

Lucia came in with the coffee. "Ah, good girl."

"Thank you, Matier."

"Why don't you go help that nice young woman, Trish?"

Lucia nodded, understanding Matier wanted to speak with Dante alone. She checked her weapons and ran out the door, jumping up onto the rooftops.

Dante was looking at her with a slight smile.

Matier laughed. "Oh, you do not believe looking at this wrinkled old face and stooped back, but I'll have you know I was very beautiful when I was your age. Red hair… very much like my daughter. But there's one of my grandchildren who is the absolute spitting image of me. Would you like to see a photograph?" She reached in her pouch.

Dante snorted and muttered, "I guess some things are constant."

"Children and grandchildren are a joy. But where was I? My, this old mind wanders sometimes…" She shook her head.

Dante didn't look like he believed any of that. Bright boy. He was growing much more like his father than he had been as a child… the one who had met with him as a teenager said he had used very bad language when they offered to teach him to use the devil powers that were his proud heritage as the son of such a great and noble warrior.

"In any case, the princess' suitors created many contests of the mind, body and powers, for the one who defeated her in something would win her hand, if they won her respect. However, none of them triumphed."

Dante raised an eyebrow.

"Not two out of three." Matier laughed, shaking her head at what a scamp she had been. "Her parents were distraught, and counseled her to choose a knight to wed soon, for they had no other children and there were few of noble enough blood in the land to be their heirs."

It was becoming more and more of a problem.

After the coming of the Spanish her father, the leader of the clan, had ordered that people seek marriage among other members of the clan as much as possible, because the blood was growing thin.

But hearts loved where they did and sorcerer after sorcerer came.

Matier could not imagine being as weak and short-lived as a human. She knew she had lived a long, full life, but she did not want to die as soon as she thought she might. She was healthy, so perhaps fifty more years. Unless someone like Arius got lucky.

She did not want to leave her daughter alone.

She was lucky her parents were both clanspeople. A human, with a lifespan of only a century or so even if they kept in good health? She could not imagine it. No wonder they were so desperate for the demon power that so many of them were willing to kill and risk early death at the hands of the Guardian Clan.

No gods save Sparda had sired children with humans since Mundus' war, and so many had died in that war… he had been determined to wipe them out, and his servants had followed his will even after his defeat.

Not to mention that the sacrifice of a part-blood was more powerful than the sacrifice of a human.

The last fifty years had reduced the clan's numbers to a quarter of what they had been. Mundus' followers had prepared for his resurrection. Sparda had died. Sorcerers had multiplied as information became more available. And now Mundus was defeated a second time but there was still chaos in the otherworld.

Her people needed the aid of a god. Would the Son of Sparda be that god? Their light of hope?

She examined him, sprawled in that chair. He was beautiful, as beautiful as his father had been. He was rougher, certainly, but then we were all young once. He had a very kind heart and had helped her daughter much.

She had hoped… her daughter now idolized him, but he seemed to look at her as more of a little sister, someone to protect and teach. Even that was good. However she hoped that there would be Grandsons of Sparda. That would marry among her clan.

Arius had dealt them a great blow, now, and more vultures would be gathering.

"Many envied the wealth of the kingdom, and the sacred talismans the gods had granted as signs of their favor."

Dante knew she was talking about the Arcana, and was clearly getting bored with being told a fairy tale. He was a grown man now. Grown men didn't listen to fairy tales.

Poor boy. To have a father like that and never know him, to have a mother like that and lose her so young… Matier envied Eva, but she had wished her well.

She would tell her son a story for her. "Finally an evil sorcerer came with an army of demons. The young knights challenged him and died, until finally the princess was chosen to hold the ancient title of Protector when her mother died."

A wince in his eyes, sympathy. The Guardian Clan had always been matriarchal.

"Then her father called for a great knight to come from a distant land, and sent his daughter to be his guide. The princess felt insulted by this. She was the greatest warrior of the kingdom. Why did they need a foreign knight when they had her? Nothing had diminished her pride." Matier rocked a little in the chair, meditating, watching Dante closely without seeming to.

"She had killed every demon she faced but for each she killed five roamed loose, attacking the nobles and peasants alike, and she told herself it was not her fault, it was theirs for being so weak." Matier sighed. "But it was hers, for though she could kill the weak servants by the dozens she could not attack the dark lord in his castle.

"Then the knight came, and all rejoiced. They were sent to gather the sacred treasures of the gods, and they did. In that quest they both spoke to the evil sorcerer, who escaped, but first he taunted the princess, daring her to dare his tower as she never had. Her pride was not that great, to go to certain death. Until he wounded it." The outlander sorcerer calling her a weak woman, a mere girl, not worthy of the power she inherited. Saying the Guardian Clan was doomed, if she was the best they could send and they needed to call on a foreign adventurer (the fool had not realized who Sparda was).

Lucia had gone to prove herself. A far nobler reason. Matier sighed, abandoning the storyteller's voice and seeming her apparent age, tired. She was tired. "I should have told her, but it was never the right time."

"She didn't need to know." Dante shrugged.

"But it came as such a shock… she should have heard it from me, not Arius. He used it to weaken her." Matier sighed. "I did not lie to her."

"She is your daughter."

Matier nodded. "As much my child as those from my body." She hadn't loved her husband. But she'd needed to have children, for the clan. One of them should have inherited the title of Protector.

But all of them were dead now, killed by one enemy or another, and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren were too young for this. Lucia was too young for this, but as Matier's only living daughters… Should she have denied her her rights because she was not a daughter of her flesh? She was a true daughter of her heart. "I only found her eight years ago, when Arius did not seem like a true danger. There are so many sorcerers." Her throat was dry and she took a drink of her coffee. It was still warm and rich.

Dante nodded. "There are enough I don't need your money. I get plenty of jobs."

"It is not a matter of needing, young man: it is a matter of deserving." She put the cup down and doggedly continued. "The princess fought well but the evil sorcerer defeated her, and demanded the treasures as ransom."

"My father handed over the Arcana?" Dante looked doubtful.

"Oh, he brought them. He had to pass through the sorcerer's minions to reach the throne room where the princess was held, and if he had not had them the minions would have told the sorcerer and the princess would have been killed. The sorcerer still intended to kill her, for he would gain much power from her death, but the knight broke the spell that held the princess and escaped with her." She had been so, so humiliated. The Arcana lost because of her! Not only that, but she'd acted like a fool in front of the great god Sparda, who her people hoped would become their patron after he had saved them and the world from Mundus. He had refused centuries ago but they hoped, since he had come to aid them, he might change his mind.

It was when he fought the sorcerer and made it look so easy she'd begun to notice he was handsome. Strong. The divine blood in her, watered down as it was, found beauty in strength. That was why she had not wanted one weaker than her… that and her foolish pride.

If he had found her worthy, would their children have been as powerful as this young man? Even more powerful, with her blood adding to their strength?

The other gods had not wanted their children with mortals to grow strong enough to challenge them. Very few became gods themselves, and they had been killed by Mundus. Their strongest warriors had died in the war against him, only children and their guards left.

Sparda was so powerful, so handsome. She wished… but those were the fantasies of a girl, and she was an old woman now. She had grown old while he remained perfect. She wished she had not outlived him. She would have liked to live on in his memory.

"The princess berated him: she had lost, her life was not worth the sorcerer gaining the talismans and being able to steal the power of one of the few gods that still favored her people. It would anger the god, and what would become of the island then? Her pride had left her and she was in tears." If the Despair Embodied (called that because those who faced it had no hope) had come through and set off the island's volcanoes in its rage… she had first thought that Arius was working for Mundus or one of his generals. To think he had come so far on his own… Her people truly had been weakened.

The story seemed to be familiar to Dante.

"He said that she was human as well as divine, and her life had meaning as humans did. That she should live." She'd looked up to him then, and he'd been so strong and so kind. So beautiful. She'd felt so immature, and it was then she'd given up, known she would never be worthy of him. Though she loved him and still did. "The knight was wise as well as strong, and had replaced the treasures with copies. The sorcerer cast his spell, yet somehow despite this it had worked. The spell had opened the way for the god, who strengthened it. Because the treasures had been given to the people so they could protect the gods, and by letting a sorcerer steal his power they had betrayed the god's trust and deserved to be destroyed." To think this had happened twice in her lifetime. And they picked the same god to bother both times! The god of fire and the sun, the most chancy of all four.

"But the knight left to speak to the god," to battle him, really. The gods revered strength. Might was right. So if someone fought for the Guardians and defeated the god, the god would give up their rage, "leaving the princess to defeat the sorcerer." Matier chuckled, leaving aside the story again. "It was very kind of you to leave him to Lucia."

Dante shrugged. "He wasn't worth the time to finish him off."

"As you say, Son of Sparda," Matier replied with a twinkle in her eye. The coin… why did he feel he had to hide his kindness? Such a strange young man. Wise beyond his years, yet scarred by his experiences.

"The knight had gone into the demon world to face the god, and the princess waited for his return. She had wanted to go, to redeem her error, but the knight had refused, for she would surely die. She did not have the knight's power.

"It took a long time, or at least it seemed that way to the princess, but the knight returned. Her people planned a celebration in his honor and wanted to shower him with gifts. He had no need for their honors but he knew that even though the war had humbled them they needed to reward their savior."

"Is this the point of the story?" He raised an eyebrow at her, amused.

"Who said anything about a point? I told you I would tell you a story of your father, Son of Sparda. A true story." She snorted. "Outlanders may have their 'morals' and try to tell children how to be with stories. Our legends are true tales of the gods." Her eyes peered to the side.

A msira jumped through the window. Before Dante could shoot Matier had used the powers of the Arcana Bastone to, what was the word? Yes, barbeque it with a gout of flame. "Really, those girls… why in my day cleaning up the rest of them didn't take so long," she murmured, leaning the Arcana back against her chair. There had been more clanspeople in those days.

"In the good old days?" Dante asked.

She chuckled. The good old days had been right before he was born, when her clan had sent a small army to ambush the forces that would attack Sparda's wedding. Now they didn't have the people for adventures outside the island, finding out about Temen ni Gru and Mallet Island far too late to help the Son (or Sons) of Sparda as they had helped his father.

A red-headed boy, ten years old, with a machete at his waist and a string of grenades over his shoulder pushed open the door. "Grand Mother? My father wants to know…" he said in the language of the island. Matier, grand mother of the clan, was her title, not her name. Everyone, even Lucia called her it now. Outlanders called her the high priestess. The boy noticed the visitor and stopped, eyes wide. He bowed deeply.

Dante looked a little embarrassed and nodded back.

"Can it wait, Hugin?" Matier asked.

"Father wanted to know when the Protector can come to our village. We're keeping the villagers in the temple, but they're worried about their houses being wrecked."

"Lucia and our other guest are busy in the city first, cleaning out the outlander's citadel. Go speak to her, the Protector decides where the Protector will go." She motioned to shoo him away.

"Yes, Matier." He bowed and closed the door, running and jumping away to find her daughter.

Dante stood, having understood the conversation. "If you're done, I should probably go help out."

He had done enough, but she wasn't going to look a gift god in the mouth. "Thank you, young man."

He let himself out. With the check tucked back in a pocket. She did not let him see her smile. Yes, everything was just as it was with Sparda, she reflected as she sipped her coffee. Such a sweet young man.


	23. Eva: Not in Gold

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_This chapter references the events of Dante's playthrough of Viewtiful Joe 1. _

_In short, Trish gets kidnapped while putting the moves on Dante, he goes to rescue her (fights Alastor in the process), turns out the final boss is possessed by Mundus. _

_In the final battle Trish is looking on, in a cage, and taunts Mundus that he's afraid of his own creation. Mundus says this (It's on my bio too, for I am an Eva fangirl): "No, you are mistaken. In that amulet resides the soul of a human. The one who gave birth to Sparda's son... The one who protected that son's life, who protected YOUR life... That detestable woman... Eva's soul! The real enemy was you, Eva! This amulet was used to resurrect the child Dante. I shall destroy it, and you with it!"_

_Yes, I am aware that as a self-parody VJ is not in the game universe. However, this is fanfiction. That means I can do a 'crossover' if I want to. And I do want to, because come on, you think I'm going to ignore something that shows one of my favorites was indeed kickass? It is impossible to write fanfic that perfectly goes with canon at all, because fanfic is not canon. _

_Likewise, I'm going to ignore whatever of VJ I don't know about/doesn't fit into the DMCverse. It's my AU/fanfic, I can do what I want. _

-

The amulet was lying on Dante's desk. Standing around it and looking down on it were Dante, Trish, Nevan, and a ghost giving her son bunny ears.

Really, it took him this long to figure it out? He should have figured it out years ago, when the amulet had blocked Vergil's attack. She'd even managed to speak to him once, when Mundus was about to kick his ass and Trish was coming, telling him he'd be okay, Mommy was here, and he didn't know until _that bastard_ told him. Where had she gone wrong?

She'd been horrified when she'd know Mundus had her 'daughter' and was about to attack her son again. Dante had come through, she was so proud of him.

And Mundus taking her seriously as an enemy was the sweetest thing anyone not Sparda had ever said to her. She smiled savagely. He'd _better_ take her seriously. He was _not_ going to get away with what he had done to her family. She'd waited for years, she would wait longer. Eventually Dante would kill him, or a grandchild would. And she would be there to help, even if only in spirit.

She _hated_ him. Probably a little more than was healthy. She'd given up watching herself for signs of insanity. How could she tell?

"I," Mini-me was saying now, licking her lips, "I didn't know how I found you, then. I just woke up all of a sudden and I knew you needed me, so I ran. And then I knew you were right through that wall, so I zapped myself to the other side, and I knew you needed my power… I'd never done that, transferred my power before. It was like… I just knew what to do. It's strange, I've never thought about it before now."

It was probably unfair to call her Mini-me when Eva had a sneaking suspicion Trish was taller than she had been, but Trish was _her_ clone, so she could call her whatever she wanted.

She'd always wanted daughters. The fact that this one came with a built-in ability to make things go boom was a perk. Also the fact she had helped Eva… well, okay, done most of the work in saving her son that time. Although Eva had brought her back to life, so that made up for one of the times she'd saved Dante. She still owed her.

Trish spoke again. "Mundus didn't teach me how to use guns, either. The Sparda I had to spend a little time figuring out, but the guns I just _knew._"

"Huh?" Dante asked. "You were pretty good with the Sparda the first time we went on a mission together."

"I had to fight my way through demons to get to you in time," Trish told him.

Eva remembered. Now there had been a mad rush, urging her on… that way, that way, her elder son might have died that day, killed by Mundus as penalty for his failure, but she wasn't going to lose both…

"Thank goodness you did," Dante agreed. "Right before you showed up… I was thinking about how I was screwed. Didn't have the Sparda, nothing was working, Mundus was going to kill me and the best I could do was take him down with me, then I heard a voice."

Nevan raised an eyebrow. "Hearing voices, Sugar? I thought you grew out of that crazyness."

Eva laughed and Dante chuckled. She _liked_ the ex-succubus. Yay for woman's lib! And things resembling women. She'd known prostitutes before.

Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't glad she, not Nevan, had nabbed Sparda. Nope, not that generous.

Still, she owed her. She owed everyone who helped protect her sons.

Trish was looking from Dante to Nevan and looking a little down, before her resolve strengthened. Eva patted her on the shoulder, although she wouldn't feel anything, and told her, though she wouldn't hear, "You can do a lot better, really."

"I think… I think I might have said something like that, or… something. It's… not really clear." Trish frowned. "I remember… it wasn't like something I would have said."

"You're sure? Because it was like something Mother would have said. Nevan, have you heard of anything like this? You're the one who knows the most about this stuff." Dante turned to her.

No one had had to tell Eva she couldn't have Sparda. It had just happened, despite them both knowing perfectly well they were too different and it was doomed to failure.

Her poor daughter.

Of course, it was Dante's fault for humoring her. The boy was too nice to women. He was trying not to reject her and break her heart but the longer he took to tell her no the more it was going to hurt when he did. "Banging your head against a brick wall. He's even red." She whacked Dante on the head, her hand stopping only partway through his hair with practice.

Really, she was just talking to herself, but if she didn't she would have gone mad by now. She'd known she would be a ghost, at least unless Sparda resurrected her (that was the original plan, her becoming bound to the amulet a way of cheating death) but she'd been thinking more along the lines of ghosts in movies.

Appearing, even if appearing see-through, haunting their descendents, in her case giving unwanted advice and being a back-seat hunter.

"You mean I used to know _all _the gossip." Nevan laughed. "Well, before Mundus came there were stories of devils turning their favorite human lovers into demons…"

Dante cut her off. "There's no way Mother would have agreed to that."

"You're right," Eva told him, voice falsely cheerful. "I refused to let him make me a demon. And if I'd agreed I might have been strong enough to fight off that last attack. The moral of the story being, racism is dead stupid."

"Or they would put enchantments on them to protect them, Sugar, or bind their souls to things. I think that's our best bet."

"So my mother's haunting this amulet." Dante picked it up, looked at it thoughtfully.

"Right!" Eva agreed. "Duh!"

"He said there was a _human_ soul in it. So she's still human." He looked slightly relieved.

Then his eyes widened and an oh shit expression appeared on his face.

"What is it, Sugar?" Nevan asked.

"I am so dead."

"Yes, you are, Mister Suicidal."

"If she'd haunting the amulet and is awake enough to know what's going on outside the amulet and talk to me when I'm not wearing the amulet… No, if she could do that all the time she would have done it by now. Maybe she's only awake part of the time, or she woke up when the amulets became one?" He looked relieved now. "Because if she saw a lot of the stuff I used to get up to I would have to kill myself."

"No, sorry. Although I looked away when you were with a woman. Basic politeness, we women need to stick together. And I used to change your diapers, so seeing you naked does nothing for me. Ghosts don't need to sleep. Your father does, but he's not a ghost and he took one hell of a beating, plus when the amulets were separated there was that seal and he had to sleep." Eva sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You can't hear me. Hey! It's just like when I was alive. I would talk and talk and you wouldn't listen to a word I said. In one ear and out the other."

"Mother? Can you hear me?" Dante asked, looking at and holding the amulet.

"Yes I can."

He sighed, opening his eyes. "I'm not hearing anything. Trish?"

"Why ask me? I'm not holding it." Trish blinked.

"Well, we know she influenced you once. Maybe it's because you're a clone of her. There's that magical law, the symbol is the thing."

"And I was made to be a symbol of her," Trish looked peeved. "What, do you think she's possessing me or something?" Alarm shone in her eyes.

"Maybe. Exactly how much did Mundus tell you about the human world?" Dante grimaced.

Trish paused. "I… I just knew how to ride a motorcycle for some reason. But that was before I'd had anything to do with… no, I'd touched Vergil's amulet."

"And that was how I met you."

"Mundus had me try to take it off." Fear. "She can control me even when I'm not wearing the amulet!" Trish backed away from the table.

"Not control. Just tell you things." Eva patted her on the shoulder. "You're a good girl who listens to her mother. Some of the time. If you listened to me all of the time you would quit wasting your time with Dante and date that nice young demon, Alastor. Now Dante, if you listened to me, I would have grandkids by now. And as for Vergil…" she shut up.

Vergil. Where had she gone wrong?

Dante had hated himself and so had Vergil. They'd both pursued courses of self-destruction, although Vergil was the only one who had come close to succeeding.

He'd allied himself with demons and sorcerers… she'd thought she'd failed with him, failed to teach him human lives had meaning, but he'd done all of that first to wake Dante up and then to retrieve Sparda, so… but did the ends justify the means?

And then he had fallen.

She hadn't wanted to watch. But she couldn't look away. Someone should be with him, if only in spirit, she'd known. She'd whispered to him. He'd been so brave, so strong, it had taken years to break him, but only on the surface. Deep down there had still been her son.

Enough of him left to awake when he saw the other amulet. Enough of him to spare Dante's life when he had him pinned and weaponless on the battlements of Castle Ardor, even though the compulsion spells hit him with pain she could only imagine.

She couldn't even hold him.

The amulet had been his one anchor, the reminder Mundus couldn't take away, for only Sparda's blood could remove it from someone who did not want to give it up.

Yet he'd given it up to Dante, some part of him knowing that Dante would need Sparda's power, the power Vergil had longed for, to survive.

"Don't worry, Trish. She won't hurt you or anything." Dante shrugged.

"No," Eva agreed, smiling. Even though she'd been whispering of freedom to Trish, was perhaps some of the reason she'd only used weak, insignificant attacks against Dante when he fought Nightmare, a big light show but sound and fury, signifying nothing. Mundus had punished her for her failure.

Then Trish had given her life to save Eva's son. "Well, at least I can do some things, although it's really the amulet and not me. Even I had no idea Sparda had built a resurrection ability into this thing. If I'd known, I would have given it to Dante and Vergil way before their fifth birthday." She poked the amulet. "Although you have to know how to activate it. I think he was still working on it when he died. He used to borrow it from me to tinker with it." She'd had nothing else to do but watch her children and investigate her pretty prison. The first time… she'd just _needed_ her son to come back to life. And it had worked.

Now the amulet was complete and Trish held it and the Sparda, she could cuddle her sleeping husband's soul and tell him she loved him when he woke up, which was wonderful. Now, that was her idea of an afterlife. With the person you love. "Speaking of which, I'm so glad you finally got a chance to meet your father." She pecked Dante on the forehead.

"Well… she's been really helpful so far, and I don't want to be ungrateful, but…" Trish didn't know how to end that sentence.

"But you don't want him to wonder if I'm looking back at him every time you get him to look into your eyes," Eva finished for her. "He's already doing that. Seeing me. If he wasn't already in love with his secretary, I'd suggest magical plastic surgery."

She hugged Trish, then the sword Trish had leaned against the desk. It, or he, was solid to her at least. "Kids." She stroked the sword lovingly. Red energy crackled across it.

All three of them had spun around at the noise, then turned back to the desk.

Trish was looking a little mournfully at Eva's photograph. Eva drifted back over. "Yes, that's a very good photograph. I like that it captured my smirk."

Dante weighed the amulet, sighing. "I remember giving it to you. Were you…"

"No, I was kind of dead at the time."

"I figured. We both owe her our lives, don't we. The whole world owes her. If she hadn't brought you back to life Mundus would have killed me, and the whole world would be Demonville by now."

Nevan nodded. "He wouldn't waste any time, Sugar."

"Hell!" Dante punched the table. "I thought we'd have two thousand years! If he can possess people this soon after I kicked his ass…"

"And Vergil, sugar," Nevan reminded him unhappily.

Trish shook her head. "Vergil failed him. It's… it's not going to be pretty."

"I know," Eva bowed her head. "I saw more of it than you did. My poor, poor boy…" She couldn't cry in this form. No tears dripping on her face. She wanted to cry for him.

Dante _hating_ his father's blood, Vergil resenting her, wishing he had been born a full demon, where had she gone wrong?

Her mother hadn't really raised her, she'd been handed off to her nanny. Sparda, Sparda had disappeared and boys needed a father, she'd done her best but she'd had no clue what she was doing…

She drifted over and leaned against Sparda. The sword crackled, she could feel the energy like she could feel souls. Only things she could feel. It was rather odd. She knew demons sensed these things. What had haunting a demon talisman for so many years done to her?

"Sparda," she whispered, stroking the hilt as she leaned against him, imagining being held by him. The energy arcing through her insubstantial 'body' felt like him, but it wasn't the same. Her eyes closed, remembering a balcony.

"Why is the sword acting like that?"

Eva opened her eyes.

"It did that when I put it on my back for the first time… normally it's pretty tame, right Trish?"

"Right, Dante. It lit up like that when I touched it for the first time, like it was testing me."

"Only devil arms testing people usually does a lot more damage than some pretty lights." Nevan tapped her fingers on her hip. "Isn't it odd that it does this when we're talking about his wife?"

"Is Sparda awake? Can he hear us?" Dante muttered under his breath, clearly cursing. "I wish I had managed to talk to him!" His fist hit the desk in emphasis.

"I wonder," Trish said aloud. "I wonder, since they're both complete and unsealed, and I'm wearing both of them so they're right next to each other. I wonder if they can sense each other."

"Hell, I hope so." Dante sighed, looking at the amulet again. "Trish, you can't devil trigger, so the Sparda's the best weapon for you. You can't devil trigger with him most of the time, but that's not a problem for you and he does about twice the damage of even Alastor. You're safest wielding him. And just in case they can communicate, I don't want to separate them."

Trish nodded. "I understand."

Eva smiled, opening her eyes. "You'd hate to be separated from Dante. You've never had a family before, so it's no wonder you're mixing up family love with lust. Besides being raised a demon." She kissed Sparda. "Got to keep the family safe. She's just a girl too." They were all just children, her boys and her new daughter.

Not just a copy, definitely not a rip-off. "You've earned our help," Eva told Trish, even though she wouldn't hear. Eva smiled upon her sadly and caringly. "I'm sorry, I'd use even a baby to help my sons." She pet Sparda again. "Cold hard bitch queen, heh."

"Together in death," Trish said wonderingly. "That's very romantic."

"Tragic would be a better word, Honey." Nevan sighed. "The legendary dark knight… everyone used to have a thing for him. Sort of like you, Dante." She jabbed him.

"Yeah, women throwing themselves at you actually gets boring after a while. Who knew?" Dante shrugged theatrically.

Eva banged her head on Sparda. "Trish, he's not talking about you. Well, he is a little, but he doesn't mean it that way. Don't listen to a word that boy says. I swear, he's in his thirties now and he's just as oblivious as he was before I started trying to get those two to be social and get to know humans."

"You know, Dante," Nevan suggested, "You should start a fanclub."

"Yeah." Trish laughed. "We could use the money."

Eva laughed. "I was usually in the red, back when I was a hunter. As well as _in _red. Dante, when did I give you permission to copy my look?" she asked, mock seriously. "Never mind, it's flattering. So is the figure on the sign. At least I hope that's supposed to be me. It might be Lady. Nah, it's me. Lady, heh." She laughed. "Shooting you in the head… Sparda, remember how we met?" She elbowed the sword.

He was happy, drowsing but he knew she was focused on him. At least this talking wasn't useless. Made him happy. She'd do anything to make him happy. "Still, should I ever have the opportunity, I'm going to shoot Lady in the head and see how _she_ likes it. Oh, I'll have a gold orb handy! But no one is allowed to shoot my sons but me. Even if he was being sexist." She sighed theatrically again, waving her arm. "Where did I go wrong?" she asked the sky. "Seriously, Sparda… I wish you had been around. Missed you, missed you so much. You would have known what to do." She kissed the sword and its aura flared again.

"Speaking of money," Trish told Dante, "You should be heading out on that mission instead of standing around talking."

Dante rolled his eyes. "It's an old building with noises. No one's died yet."

"We need the money," Trish repeated. "Business has been slow lately."

"Trish, business is always slow when there's some big evil plan in the works. Mundus was concentrating on that guy, manipulating him. Now his plan failed we'll be back to random demons and two-bit sorcerers. Things'll pick up," Dante said confidently.

Nevan was wincing and Eva agreed. "Trish, he needs someone to look after him, but if you cross that line into nagging," she made the gesture of cutting her throat. "You're just going to seem more _maternal. _Don't blame this on channeling me. Man oh man, Sparda, at least I have you to talk to now. They've been driving me crazy. Idiot kids."

She thought she might have been crazy at times there… She might have been able to stop the amulet being used to break the seal if she had tried, but she hadn't.

Vergil had been after Sparda's power. Sparda's _sword. _Which, she'd known, might have Sparda's _soul_ in it. She'd missed her husband so much…

So much that even after Arkham had taken over the show she'd still not put on the brakes. "Ha! That would have been fun. He would have been the one going 'Why isn't this working?' while the kids got their breath back." She made the throat-cutting gesture again. "It was your seal, Sparda, but it was keeping me from you. I couldn't stand it anymore. Seventeen years." She kissed the sword. "Selfish bitch. And then I let the amulets combine to unseal you… I thought for sure you'd gut him." She sighed. "And then the boys stood around fighting while I was screaming at them to get the hell out of hell… Man, I'm so going to shoot the hell out of those two." If she ever got the opportunity. "You'll make them stand still for me." Kiss. "You're all stronger than I ever was… I hate being the weak woman who stands around while the men do all the fighting."

Another kiss. "And then you were all dead… thought you'd never wake up. You're still not all the way up… Wish I could talk to you. So much to talk to you about. And it's not all complaining about the ungrateful duo I spend nine months pregnant with, I swear." She laughed.

"If you say so, Dante." Trish looked a little doubtful.

"If Mundus is still around we're not going to see a _drop_ in business, that's for sure." Dante nodded. "Damn. Hopefully being beaten a second time will make him worry a little."

"Doubt it, Sugar. Mundus isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed."

"I noticed. How the hell did he end up Emperor?"

"Raw power and good help. He picked the smart ones to defeat and make serve him," Nevan informed him. "His commanders, like Griffon and Sparda were. You must have really hurt him by killing Griffon."

"_He_ killed Griffon, Nevan. Three eyed mo… bastard."

"Anyways, sugar, he has a knack for getting good help, but not holding onto it."

"Sparda betrayed him, you too Trish, all my devil arms are loyal to me…"

"You're a lot better than Mundus," Trish told him.

"Understatement of the millennium," Nevan agreed.

"Even if he never listens to a word... No, that's not fair. He's your son, Sparda. I know you're proud of him. I'm so glad you got to see him all grown up." Eva kissed the sword again. Warmth, she felt from it. Even if the warmth wasn't anything physical. It was love. He still loved her, even after she'd failed him and the children… he was guilty too. "It's all right, I know you would have come back to us if you could, you're here now and Dante forgives you. He even forgives me. Vergil… Watch, Dante'll rescue him. And he'll bring you back and once you're awake you'll be able to take care of me. Then the whole family will be back together again. All five of us. And any future in-laws. And grandchildren, and I still want those daughters, you know. Yes, I do have Trish, but I'm greedy."

"Still, I'd better go on that job. Coming, Trish? Nevan, it's your turn."

"Ah, she's so cute. She was hoping for alone time. He's treating her like a human partner, always bringing her along, instead of like a devil arm. He's a good boy."

"Sure, Sugar."

"Yes, Dante." Trish scooped up the amulet and hung it around her neck, reaching to grab the Sparda, which adhered to her back.

"Of course, it's a good thing she does go with him, because she brings us along. I wish I had popcorn to eat while I watch them fight." Eva patted Sparda and then Trish's head, hovering in the air, part of her stuck through the ceiling. She derived some amusement from ignoring the laws of physics. Whatever kept her sane.


	24. Abel Morgan OC: Family

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, Capcom does, and they are the only ones who make money from this. _

_This is another thank-you to the artist Gabriel-chaos. She saw me musing about writing this on my lj and said she would like to see it. Then, she drew me another piece of kickass Eva art, so I asked what she wanted in exchange. _

_Currently, I'm trading fic for art: if there's something you wish someone would write and you can draw, drop me a line, and maybe I'll take you up on it. _

_OC warning! If you've seen enough bad OCs you're just plain allergic to OCs in general, don't read this! However, if you like Daniels you should give this guy a try. _Seas in Incarnadine _takes place after _Rapture, _so if you want to see this guy in his only other appearance check out Codicil B – Deadlier. _

_- _

Abel Morgan didn't know why he was hesitating to pick up the phone. It wasn't like this had shattered his worldview.

He'd been twenty-one when several warehouses, along with a section of the slums of New York had been destroyed. That night while they watched the reporters complain about the complete lack of information from inside the sealed-off area, his father Toby had taken him aside and shared some family history that hadn't been for the ears of children or his wife.

Strange, to think he had two aunts he had never known existed.

Sarah Morgan, raped and killed by cultists who were more than just loonies.

Delores Morgan, ran away after the body was found, her note vowing revenge on all of demonkind.

He hadn't wanted to believe it, but later that night there were things other than bats that obscured the moon, and the sky had glowed red like there was a hole to the fires of hell in it.

There was a cover-up, just like his aunts had been swept under the rug. But after that night, he knew the truth.

He'd hoped that was the end to it. That other world had reached out and taken enough of his family. Yet here he was, about to make the call to the same people that had tried and failed to rescue his aunt Sarah.

He'd been ordered not to call for help. Could they send someone from New Jersey in time? He was in Chicago with his family, his daughter had demanded to go with him on the business trip to see the place where some movie was set, Ferris something.

Would they fail again?

But he had no other hope. He'd read Kipling's Jungle Books and became interested in the poetry. Once you had paid the Danegeld, you would never be rid of the Dane. If he paid the protection money this time, the bastard would just ask for more and more. He would never be free of this sorcerer and his demands.

He hadn't wanted to believe this guy was for real. One bank blown up after the bomb squad had just pronounced it clean and the threat a fake was proof enough.

Enough stalling.

He was using a cell phone he'd found left behind in some staffer's office. The call probably couldn't be traced to him. But who knew, with black magic.

"Redgrove Industries, custom weapon manufacturing since 1821. How may I help you?"

How many decades since his grandfather had made that call, and the response was just what he had been told to expect. "Hello, I'd like to place an order."

"What kind of order?"

"Kill them all."

"One moment sir, I'll transfer your call." Several bell tones and then another voice said something garbled by the background noise.

"What?" Abel asked.

"I said, where are you calling from? You're using a cell, right? According to this thing, it's a Chicago area code. We don't do Chicago."

Abel's shoulders slumped. "Can, can you make an exception?"

"Guy, with the amount of demonic activity right now? There's an independent handling New York. And there's one in Chicago, don't worry." The rough voice seemed to know Abel's state. No one to save them? "I'll connect you. The password for us, I mean people in the biz is, you're looking for the handyman who will take any dirty job. That'll get you through the screening, since I doubt you've got time to find an informer with the client password."

"The handyman who will take any dirty job?" Abel asked to confirm, scribbling it down with a shaking hand.

"That's right." Abel could hear the nod in the man's voice. "If they ask who gave you that password, say Tony Redgrave."

"Tony Redgrave," he parroted.

"Right. Here you go."

One ring, and then, "Devil May Cry Extermination Services. Any way you slice it, we'll dice it," a cheerful female voice answered.

"Trish!" He heard someone yell in the background. "What have I told you about getting fancy? Just say the name and wait for the password!"

"Sheesh, Dante, let me have a little fun." Abel could hear the pout in Trish's voice.

"A _little?" _Dante seemed amazed.

"I'm, I'm looking for the handyman who will take any dirty job?" Abel tried.

Silence on the other end, enough to worry him. Finally, "Well, that brings back memories. Okay, what's going on? Mundus again?"

"…Mundus?" he squeaked. God, he hoped not. Wasn't that just a legend? What if it wasn't?

And for God's sake, who on Earth would say Mundus _again_ like they dealt with him daily?

"Mundus?" Abel heard the man say, closer to the phone this time. "Give me it, Trish."

"Okay, Dante."

"Who is this?"

"Abel Morgan," he answered, swallowing.

Another pause. "Do I know you?"

"I don't think so."

"Your voice sounds familiar. Something to do with the accent… Never mind. How did you get this number and that password?"

"Well, I called Redgrave Industries first, Tony Redgrave passed me on to you."

Silence. "Good old Tony. Still thinks I owe him for borrowing the family name." A dark chuckle. "He can have it."

Abel restrained the automatic "What?" He didn't want to know. "My name is, no, I told you my name. There's a sorcerer threatening my family. He blew up one of my banks…"

"Wait, you're one of those Morgans? The banking family from New York?"

"Yes? Does it matter?"

"Humph." Considering. "No, not really. Where are you?"

"The local offices, working late. Do you want the address?"

"Yeah. We'll be there in a flash."

"The, the sorcerer said not to contact anyone. I'm pretending to work late, there are a lot of papers to fill out for the insurance on the bank he blew up…"

"Don't worry. Where's your family?" A note of concern.

"At the hotel."

"Give me that address too, and room number. I'll send Trish to keep an eye on them, and I'll keep an eye on you."

"Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you. Here are the numbers, I'm in the top floor of the office building." Abel rattled them off.

"We'll be there in a second. Trish! Nevan!" Dante called out, and put Abel on hold.

Thunder crashed outside, and then so close it was almost on top of him. But… it was a clear night… Abel whirled around, and almost dropped the phone. "Who, who are you?"

"The name's Dante," the white-haired not-quite-a-stranger replied, slinging himself down into the guest chair and putting his boots on Abel's desk with a proprietary air. "You called?"

"I, I didn't expect you to get here so fast." Abel chastised himself inwardly for almost stammering. But then, he was stressed, and shocked.

"I said in a flash, didn't I? Relax. You can hang up now." He pointed to the phone.

Yes, this was the same man Mr. Redgrave had sent him to. And father had said to trust the Redgraves. He took a deep breath. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Having your family threatened can unsettle anyone." Rough sympathy despite the flippant tone. "Don't worry, with Trish there they're safer than in a bank vault."

Abel's cell phone, his private family number, rang. "One second, this should be them." Nervous fingers took it out of his pocket. White hair, white hair was pretty rare on someone who couldn't be much older than Abel himself. Where had he seen it before? It wasn't even white-blond, it was silvery white. Startlingly white.

The white seemed connected to something he didn't want to think about, some long buried memory… no, that was melodramatic. His father would have told him if the family had been involved in anything with demons and demon slayers since his aunts' death and disappearance. He must be thinking of something else, some horror movie or something. "Are you sure, I mean, do you know me? Because you seem sort of familiar…" And the phone was in his hand. "One second. Honey?" he said into the phone.

"Thank god, Abe, there's this strange woman who just showed up, she came in somehow, she said you hired her-"

"We'll talk money later," Dante interrupted, and how had he heard? The phone wasn't on speaker. "That's Trish."

"It's okay, Esther, that's Trish. She works with a… security company?" Dante nodded with approval of the cover story. "That I just hired. You remember the bomb threat?"

"I thought you said-"

"I'm just taking precautions," Abel assured her, hoping that was the case.

"She's got this huge sword and, and guns, I don't like guns around children, could you ask her to conceal them at least? What if Judith gets ahold of one?"

A snort from Dante. No backup there.

"It's just for now, I'm sure she'll be careful, she's a professional. Now, Esther, I've got to take another call, I love you, everything's going to be okay."

"Abel-" but he had hung up.

He was going to catch hell for that. He was almost looking forward to it. They would all have to be alive for her to give him hell.

"Alright. Now who's this sorcerer who's giving you trouble?"

"He calls himself Destroyer."

"Destroyer?" Dante frowned. "Either he's new or he's not local. Maybe he followed you here from New York?"

"He might have, I received the first threat there." Abel nodded.

"Let me make a call." A black cell was suddenly in Dante's hand and Abel noticed a slight frown. Numbers were punched in. "Yeah? Lady, it's me."

A moment of silence.

"Yeah, right, uh-huh, okay, I owe you one. I need another favor. You know a guy calls himself Destroyer?" Listening, and a nod. "Looks like you'll owe me. Looks like he skipped town when you made things too hot for him. He's harassing somebody out here." A laugh at this lady's response. "Yeah, guy with a death wish. Don't they all have one?" A longer speech. "Yeah, you said it. Well, we'll put this guy down. You can tell your clients he's as good as dog food." A snort, and his eyes widened. "Yeah, alright you're welcome." Dante hung up. "Stealing her prey my ass…" But he remained focused on Abel.

Then he shook his head, back to business. "He had a spell watching you here. Nevan's tracing it back."

"Nevan?"

"Another person who works for me, like Trish. Don't worry, she'll have kept the spell from tipping him off I arrived. Now, how were you supposed to deliver the money?"

"He was supposed to meet me here tonight, at midnight." They both looked at the clock. Only eight.

"Well, do you have a pool table here? Or we could play poker."

There was no pool table. While looking for a deck of cards among the shelves, Abel came across something that jarred his memory: a certain book. _Dante, guided by Vergil, Vergil and Dante, _"Dante von Schwärzung!"

Dante jumped.

"You are!" Abel stared. "What are you… you still own the bank, right? Is this because… those guys were after you when they…! Your father disappeared, and your mother and brother were assassinated… it wasn't Communists, was it? It was demons?"

"Sort of. Long story. You might say demon hunting is the real family business." A half-smile.

"Your mother? She was some kind of private detective or something, wasn't she?"

"Right, she was a demon hunter. One of the best."

"So that was how she was able to kill those assassins at the amusement park."

A nod.

"You know, one of my aunts ran away to become a demon hunter. Do you know if you could find out if she's still alive?"

"She's dead."

"How do you know?"

"Drop. It." And Dante's gaze was dead serious. "Drop it if you want to live. If she did survive, well. The families of hunters are _hostages._ You want your family to be safe after tonight, right? They will never, ever," and Dante rose to his feet, advancing on Abel, who found himself backing away, "be safe, not even in the grave, if you don't drop it right now."

That day, the day his grandfather had died, was seared into his memory. "In the photo, Delores had blonde hair," he whispered, eyes widening. "You're…"

"Don't say it." And Dante's hand covered his mouth, eyes glaring into his. "We're total strangers: you just hired me for a job. That's the way it has to be."

"But," he said through the hand: it could barely be made out.

"Don't say it." Dante shook his head.

_You're my cousin, _was what he wasn't supposed to say. But…

Dante's parents and brother had been killed because his mother was a demon hunter. Abel's cousin was a demon hunter. Dante von Schwärzung had no other living family.

Being the heir to another bank wasn't worth his daughter's life, even if Dante was, indeed, living very, very dangerously.

Trying to get revenge, just like Delores (Eva, wasn't that what she had called herself?) had been.

Revenge for the avenger.

He didn't want his daughter to ever have to pick up a gun in her life. "Say what?" He asked, backing away from Dante, a long-practiced look of 'honest' confusion on his face.

The cousin he'd never known wasn't worth the wife and daughter he loved. And that was the way Dante seemed to want it. You didn't know either? He wanted to ask that question, but that would involve talking more about it and he wanted to forget it had ever happened.

Forget it had happened until he had to choose a number to pass down to his daughter on some dark night, so that if anything ever happened she would have someone to call.

That number would be the Redgrave number.

He hadn't gotten this far in life by taking any chances.

He could feel Dante looking at him while he nonchalantly examined the bookcases for that deck of cards.

The records of the Morgan family were easy to find: they made the society pages in New York, and the financial section. But the von Schwärzung family? Abel hadn't even known Dante was… his daughter would say, 'playing Batman' trying to avenge his family. He could hire private investigators, but people might wonder why he was doing that.

No, this was a normal job for Dante and a normal--god, he didn't want this to be a normal thing!--semi-normal threat for him. No reason to get involved past this night.

Provided everything went well.

Dante's mother, his… no, don't think about what else she must have been, otherwise Dante wouldn't have reacted like that, must have trained him well, and he obviously had magicians of his own working for him.

It would be okay. His family was safe. Please, let them be safe.

He couldn't find the deck of cards, and they were stuck waiting until about 9:30, when there was another flash and a redhead appeared. "He's taken care of, Sugar."

"Ah, you didn't invite me?"

"You were busy, Sugar." She winked.

"Not really." He frowned. "Is it that obvious?"

"It's more obvious when you know Trish," she answered, matching his frown. "You aren't happy?"

"They're in danger."

"Relax. No one will know." Nevan (wasn't that a boy's name?) shrugged sexily. She seemed to do everything sexily. Was 'she' a transgender? She seemed just a little artificial? Though the boobs were either implants or real. And that voice was all female.

"They'd better not." Dante shuddered. "This guy has a family."

"Don't worry, Dante." She walked over and hugged him briefly.

"Lost cause, Nevan."

If the rest of his family was dead, discovering more must mean a lot to Dante. It was too bad they couldn't keep in touch. It was too risky, and Dante didn't want that either. So Abel felt better about the fact he thought it was too risky also.

"Let's take this guy back to his family and wrap this up," Dante added.

Nevan held out her hand to Abel. He hesitantly took it. "Don't worry," she assured him, and he wasn't sure if it was about what was going to happen now or the future.

In a flash, they were at the hotel room.

"Dante!" The woman who was there, Trish, who looked a lot like his daughter, seemed eager to talk to Abel's cousin. No, he shouldn't think of him that way. He was the handyman, just a handyman.

"Dad!" Judith hugged him. "Trish looks just like me! And she's really fun!" Judith had, bar her dark hair, taken after his side of the family, and they were right, the resemblance was amazing, in the shape of the face, and… was Trish Delores' daughter? He had thought the von Schwärzung family had only had twin boys? Perhaps Trish (must be short for Beatrice) had been kept secret to keep her safe.

He wondered if anything could keep his family safe. All anyone had to do was look at a photograph of Judith and one of Trish side-by-side…

"Trish, job's over, let's get out of here." Dante took her arm.

"But," Trish was excited.

"Trish. Think about what you-know-who would do if he found out about these people."

Trish sobered instantly.

"Voldemort?" Judith questioned, confused.

You-know-who was obviously some enemy of the family… Orphaned… Now was no time to be drawing Harry Potter parallels. Besides, that would make his family the Dursleys, wouldn't it? He'd read those books to Judith. No. Just no.

"Ten thousand should about cover it," Dante told him. "Send the money to this account." He was flipped a business card. "Bye." A rueful half-salute, full of regret.

A flash, and the three of them were gone, not even waiting for his reply. Not that he would try to stiff anyone, let alone his own cousin. His heavily armed and dangerous cousin, too.

"Dad, who were those people?" Judith asked.

"Never mind," he said, patting her absently on the shoulder as his eyes met Esther's: her arms were folded. Never a good sign.

"I want to know too. That women looks just like you!" Trish was too young to be Delores, certainly. He cursed the resemblance.

"Just a security team, like I said. I don't know why she looks like me."

"You're lying."

"Well, I have a guess, but they're… dangerous to know. They have enemies, and we really don't want to get caught up in their world."

Judith looked excited. "Judith!"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"You have to promise me you won't talk about those people with anyone." His voice firmed.

"Why not?"

"I'll tell you when you're older." When you need to know.

"You never tell me anything!" She stormed off. She wasn't even technically a teenager yet and she was acting like one!

"Judith!" he called after her.

"Honey, let her go. Tell me what's going on."

"I hired them to handle the bomber, like I said."

"Handle? That's a job for the cops."

"Not exactly."

"There's more to this, isn't there?"

"Do you remember when those blocks in New York got wrecked? The hole in the sky?"

"The gang war with the heavy explosive shipment in 1991? I wasn't in the city at the time ."

"If you'd been there that night, this would be a whole lot easier to explain." Abel sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You know I told you about my sisters?"

"Sarah and Delores? You didn't tell me for years."

"Yeah, well, Dante, and maybe Trish, are Delores' children." He swallowed. Saying it made it real. No wonder Dante hadn't wanted him to say it. "We both just figured it out tonight, I didn't know, I swear. And it turns out Delores made some very serious enemies. You know the von Schwärzung family?"

"Of course I know about them. I've never met them, though. The heir is a recluse."

"Dante's the heir. He's… I don't know. But Delores made some very serious enemies. They killed the rest of her family, including her. And if those people find out we're her birth relatives, they'll kill us too." Should he hire bodyguards? No, conventional ones wouldn't help.

She gasped.

"So, we have to pretend this was just a normal job for him, for them, and this was a normal bombing for us," he told her, looking into her eyes and trying to focus his intensity on her so she would take this seriously.

"A 'normal' bombing?" She laughed nervously.

He laughed too. "Yeah, there shouldn't be any such thing."

"Still, honey, isn't there some way to keep in touch without anyone finding out?"

"We _can't_ take that chance." He shook his head.

"But, doesn't your father deserve to know he has a nephew?"

"He wouldn't want to know either. The more people know, the more danger we're in." Abel looked in the direction Judith had gone. "My parents and you two are my family, all the family I have."

"Is that the way it is?"

"That's the way it has to be."


End file.
